Reflections Tapestry of Echoes
by Kazza
Summary: Sequel to 'So Life Goes On'. Captain and Lady Laurent spend their wedding trip at his family's Chateau. Jacqueline survived her mother but can she survive five months with her in-laws? COMPLETED 2002 typo fix 2005
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer: I own nothing of 'Ever After'. This story is for fannish enjoyment and no copyright infringement is intended.  
  
Summary: After the events of 'Reflections - So Life Goes On', Captain Laurent and Jacqueline de Ghent marry. Now they are making their wedding trip to visit the Captain's family.   
  
  
Tapestry of Echoes  
  
Chapter One  
  
"I shall miss you," Princess Danielle held tight to Jacqueline's hand through the window of the coach.  
  
Prince Henry stepped to his wife's side and said quietly, "They have to go now, Danielle, if they are to make their first stop tonight."  
  
Danielle nodded and stepped back into the noise and commotion of Hautefort's stabling yard. She stood beside Henry and the unusually quiet Leonardo; all three of them waving as the Laurent party left.  
  
The coach, baggage wagon and horsemen reminded Danielle of the day so many years ago when her father had brought the de Ghents to the Manor. She shuddered inwardly at the memory.  
  
"I wish I could go with them," Danielle sighed.  
  
Henry chuckled, "Dearest, I don't think they want to share their wedding trip with us." He took hold of his wife's hand and kissed it before he added, "Anyway, Normandy in Winter is not the warmest place in the world and from what Marc's told me his Grandmother's Chateau is very draughty."  
  
"Yes, but five months is a long time at my age," murmured Leonardo while he watched the rear of the baggage wagon disappear into the dust cloud.  
  
"Signore, was there something you wanted to show us?" Prince Henry smiled at the artist.  
  
"What? Oh yes, a new invention of mine." Enthused by the Prince's prompting, Leonardo led the couple back into Hautefort.  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
Marc Laurent held out his hand and assisted his wife to step down from the coach.  
  
"We'll stop here a while and give the horses a rest," Marc smiled at his bride as he led her towards the side of the dirt road. "Not too shaken up in there?"  
  
"No," Jacqueline smiled, "Although I do wish you'd let me ride." She looked up at her husband and saw the long-suffering expression on his face.  
  
"I know, I can't ride well enough yet to travel so far or deal with the 'unexpected' you're always warning me about." She sighed, "It's just so boring sitting in there, Marc. It's only been four hours. I don't know how I'm going to stand four days."  
  
"Or longer, if the weather doesn't hold," replied Marc. He grinned at the look of horror on his wife's face.  
  
"October is too early for snow, is it not?"  
  
"Generally, but it's almost November." The Captain squeezed her hand. "It's the autumn rains that may slow us down. You know it's the snow and rain that will stop us getting back out until March."  
  
They walked along the roadside for few minutes before turning back towards the rest of their party.  
  
"I hope your family is nice," Jacqueline smiled nervously at Marc. She was a little afraid of meeting Marc's family. Not only was she going to spend five months with strangers but with strangers who hadn't come to their wedding. The few members of Marc's family who had turned up were those at court or nearby. Marc had avoided the subject when she'd asked him about it.  
  
"They are all right, once you get to know them." Marc stopped then turned and grinned down at her. "I've just thought of a cure for your boredom." He led her back to the coach.  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
Jacqueline was miffed. When Marc had said he had a cure for her boredom she had assumed it meant a cuddle in the coach. Instead he had led her back to the coach, helped her in, and walked off towards the baggage wagon, calling orders to the coachman and the outriders as he walked.  
  
A few minutes later the coach door opened and Marc climbed in. Under his arm he held a bundle wrapped in oilskin. He smiled at his wife and proceeded to undo the bundle.  
  
Jacqueline's was no longer miffed. Her curiosity had gotten the better of her.   
  
She watched her husband while he removed the oilskins from the parcel. It was so strange to see him wearing clothes other than his uniform, although the soft brown and red clothes suited him well. She wondered if she'd find it strange to see him back in uniform when they eventually returned to Hautefort.  
  
"There you go," Marc leaned over and placed a carved wooden box on the seat beside Jacqueline. "That lot should keep you busy."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"More than you ever needed to know about my family," Marc smiled and stood. He kissed her lips and said, "Start with the ones on the bottom, they're the oldest."  
  
Jacqueline nodded absently as Marc stepped down from the coach and went to his horse. The coach started moving. Jacqueline sat back in the seat and opened the box. She reached down into the pile of folded letters, pulled out the bottom bundle and closed the box.  
  
  
~ 30 August 1494  
To Master Marc Laurent  
Chateau _________  
Normandy  
  
Grandson,  
The Duc's man has just delivered your letter. I am glad to hear that you are doing your family proud. We are all sure that you will do your best for the dear Duc. His Grace was certain that you would make an excellent pupil.  
  
I know you will do your utmost for the family honour,  
  
Your loving grandmother,  
Comtess Monique D'Argent  
Chateau D'Argent  
Normandy ~  
  
  
"Hmm, she doesn't sound too loving," Jacqueline murmured. She wondered what the Comtess D'Argent was like but her imagination kept bringing her back to an image of her mother. Jacqueline shrugged and picked up the second letter in the bundle.  
  
The letter was written in a sprawled hand that was difficult to read.  
  
  
~ 30 August 1494  
  
Dear Marc,  
We all miss you very much. I hope you are being a good boy and helping the Duc. Please wear the warm clothes I packed for you now that Autumn is here and be careful with all those swords and weapons. Remember to clean any cuts you get very well.  
  
Everyone here is healthy. Papa and Julien are in the town for a few days. Claudette is nearly sixteen and is becoming quite the young lady. Michel and Monique miss you in their games - Michel turned fourteen last Wednesday and is growing very tall, he must take after Grandpapa D'Argent. Adrienne, Domenic Luc, Etienne and Suzanne are all annoying nanny and making a lot of noise. I believe that Grandmamma has gone to speak to them about playing in the house. Your baby brother Raymonde is growing well. He will be one next month. I will give him a big kiss from you on his birthday.  
  
I have to go now dearest. The Duc's man is waiting for my letter.  
  
You are always in my prayers.  
Yours with love,  
Mama ~  
  
  
"I wish my mother spoke like that to me." Jacqueline sighed and folded the letter carefully. Jacqueline ran her fingers over the creases and marks on the parchment. This letter was obviously Marc's favourite in the bundle. 'If I had a letter like that it'd be my favourite too.'  
  
Jacqueline smiled and waved to her husband. He rode closer to the window.  
  
"Still bored?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Good." Marc looked forest around them. "We'll be stopping again soon. I don't want to push the horses too hard this early in our trip. Although I could wish for a safer spot." He saw Jacqueline's concerned expression and cursed himself for worrying her. "We'll be all right. Go back to your reading."  
  
Jacqueline did as she was bid. The date on the note grabbed her attention. It felt strange to read something that was written when she was barely two and a half years old.  
  
  
~10 April 1495  
Dear Son,  
Happy birthday for April 20. Your mother sends her affection. All your brothers and sisters send their best regards, when they are not squabbling.  
  
Please give our regards to His Grace the Duc and thank him again for taking you on,  
Sincerely  
Domenic Laurent~  
  
  
Inside the letter was a note was written in an elegant hand and on heavy parchment.  
  
  
~20 April 1495  
For Master Marc Laurent, Squire, in recognition of his 13th birthday and in the hope that he doesn't grow out of them by Christmas.  
Louis, Duc __________ ~  
  
  
Jacqueline noticed that Marc had written 'full suit of clothes and boots' on the back of the note. She giggled and imagined her husband as a quick-growing thirteen-year-old boy. All knees and elbows and clothes that didn't quite fit.  
  
Marc saw her grinning and rode over. "What's so funny?"  
  
"Did they fit until Christmas?"  
  
Marc caught sight of the note and the next one on the pile. The smile disappeared from his face. "I think we'll stop for a little now. Why don't you pack up the letters until later." He rode ahead to speak to the coachman.  
  
Jacqueline picked up the next letter. Just seeing it had distressed her husband. Curiosity got the better of her and she flicked the letter open. It was poorly written - the writing was hastily scrawled across the page.  
  
  
~ 15 May 1495  
Marc,  
Come at once.  
Your mother is gravely ill. She is asking for you.  
Papa ~  
  
To be continued 


	2. Chapters 2 and 3

Chapter Two  
  
It was dusk when they reached the Royal Hunting Lodge. Marc breathed a sigh of relief when they entered the forecourt. For the last hour both he and the outriders had been certain that someone was following them.  
  
Soon the couple was sitting by the main fireplace and letting the fire's heat leech the evening cold from their bones. The Captain was watching his wife, who was deep in thought.  
  
"I can see I'm going to regret this," murmured Marc. "Go on, ask me about the letters." He stretched lazily in the chair and sighed. "Dinner will be a while."  
  
Jacqueline stared into the flames. Her mind was full of questions, most of them about the letter she shouldn't have read until the next day. At the last rest stop Marc had moved her maid from the baggage wagon into the relative warmth of the coach; her presence and the failing light had prevented Jacqueline from reading more letters.  
  
Regardless of what she had read, Jacqueline knew she would have to ask Marc something safe.  
  
Marc sneaked a peek at his wife. She had been pensive since the last rest stop. He was sure she'd read the letter from his father. He bet himself an extra cup of wine with dinner that she wouldn't mention it.  
  
"What was the Duc like?" asked Jacqueline.  
  
'A cup of burgundy, I think,' thought Marc before he replied. "He was a kind man, in his own way. He had a rule for everything but he was always fair." He smiled, "Although when I was a lad I thought some of his punishments were unfair. Especially when I lamed one of his horses and he made me clean the stables for a week."  
  
Jacqueline stared into the flames again, trying in vain to imagine Marc's life with the Duc. Eventually she spoke, "What was it like being so far from home?"  
  
"Quiet," came the sleepy reply.  
  
"Quiet in what way? Marc?"  
  
The only reply was a soft snore.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
It was mid-morning the following day before Jacqueline gave into temptation reopened the box. She quickly found the next letter.  
  
~5 June 1495  
  
To Master Marc Laurent  
Chateau _________  
Normandy  
  
Dear Grandson,  
  
I am very proud of you. We are all proud of you.  
  
Keep on working hard and one day you will be a great soldier,  
  
Your loving grandmother,  
  
Comtess Monique D'Argent  
Chateau D'Argent  
Normandy  
  
P.S. My namesake has asked to write to you. In my day eleven-year-old girls were not so forward. Her letter is enclosed.~  
  
  
Jacqueline threw down the letter in disgust. It didn't answer a single one of her questions. She opened the other letter and smiled at the inexperienced handwriting. Her smile quickly disappeared.  
  
  
~Dear Marc,  
Papa did not mean what he said to you at Mama's funeral. Please tell him you forgive him. You know he can not say he is sorry.  
  
I miss Mama so much. Everyone does. Raymonde is too little to understand. He keeps asking for her. The house is full of sad and angry people. You must be so lonely there just-bigger brother. Julien and Michel are sad and they are older than you.  
  
I am thinking of you.  
Monique  
xxx ~  
  
  
A tear dropped onto the paper. Jacqueline dried her face but not before Marc noticed that she was crying. He called to the coachman to stop then dismounted from his horse. Jacqueline gave a squeak of surprise when Marc climbed into the coach and instructed the coachman to drive on.  
  
"Jacqui, what year is it?"  
  
"1510."  
  
"Exactly." He picked up the letter, "That was fifteen years ago."  
  
"What did you father say, Marc?" Jacqueline looked up into her husband's eyes. She saw the cloud that crossed them as his thoughts darkened.  
  
"He said that it was good that my mother was dead because there'd be no more children." The Captain ignored the gasps of shock from the women and continued, "I was too young to understand he didn't mean it. That the grief was speaking." He sighed and picked up the box, "Enough of this. We'll read a few more, shall we?"  
  
"More?" sniffed Jacqueline.  
  
"Yes, Elaine has not heard any of them. Have you Elaine?"  
  
The elderly maid shook her head.  
  
Marc tossed the loose letters back into the box then hunted through the bundles until he found the one he wanted. He opened the first letter, cleared his throat and began to read aloud.  
  
"May 1496  
  
"Dear Marc,  
"Did you have a nice birthday? I wish I were 14. 12 is so boring.  
  
"Is it good to live with the Duc? It's horrible here. Claudette is being such a cat. Just because she is 17 she thinks she can order us around. Last week she tried to tell Grandmamma what to do. Now she is angry because Grandmamma took her favourite dress away because she was rude.  
  
"Julien is still learning how to run the estate and how to be Papa's heir. Papa and Julien are always away working and in the town. Michel is studying the bible very hard. He wants to be a good priest and he is always telling me to be good. I think he will be a bossy priest.  
  
"Domenic and I sometimes play tricks on Adrienne and Etienne. We tried playing a trick last month but Suzanne told Domenic. So I locked Suzanne in the nursery with Nanny Amy and Raymonde. I lost my supper for three days and Grandmamma took my dolls away for a whole week. It is not fair. Suzanne was the one who told.  
  
"Love  
"Monique."  
  
Jacqueline and Elaine laughed at Monique's letter and the way the Captain read it with a completely straight face. The next three letters Marc read out were all from Monique and told of more childhood antics, broken vases, mean big brothers and Grandmamma's punishments.  
  
"How did your grandmother cope, sir?" Elaine asked after the third letter.  
  
"My Grandmother would battle with wild wolves to save her family but she could also stop a naughty child in their tracks with just a stare." Marc shuddered as he remembered a few of his own boyhood pranks and the Comtess's retaliation.  
  
Elaine saw the look. "Were you naughty when you were a boy, sir?"  
  
Marc laughed, "Very. And over the next few months you," he smiled at Jacqueline, "will be told by father and Julien of every bad thing I did as a child."  
  
"I've married a monster," giggled Jacqueline.  
  
  
Chapter Three  
  
To Jacqueline the next two days were full of major events. While Marc scanned the fields and forests for a glimpse of who or what was following them, Jacqueline sat in her own world inside the coach and experienced years in the lives of Marc's family and the events that shaped them.  
  
She read of Marc's military life though mentions of the battles he fought in and the condolences he received on the death of the Duc. There were few other mentions of his work; although Marc's acceptance into the Royal Guard earned him six letters, including a rare note of congratulations from his father.  
  
Jacqueline laughed at Monique's descriptions of Claudette's wedding in 1497 and the horror of their father at being made a grandfather a year later. She nearly fell off the seat in hysterics when she read "Grandmamma told Papa that he'd made her a grandmother at the same age and that it was justice that Claudette did the same to him." She read that part out to Elaine who chuckled.  
  
The next letter was in an unfamiliar and very formal handwriting.  
  
~ 12 February 1498  
  
To Master Marc Laurent  
Squire  
Chateux ___________  
Normandy  
  
Marc,  
Well dear brother I am following in your footsteps and going out into the world. In truth, I am merely changing one place full of people for another.  
  
I shall not be able to write. Once I enter the Abbey I shall have to forget this life and live my new life as a Brother. Yet, though I will not be able to speak to my brothers and sisters I will pray for you and think of you every night.  
  
I shall especially miss our sisters. Dear sweet Adrienne who is so like Mama and Monique who insists on breaking every rule.  
  
Do you remember as children how we three caused so much mischief? Sometimes I miss those simple days. You and I the warring Knights and Monique the damsel we fought over or rescued from some unspeakable evil. Did we ever decide what the evil was brother? I can not recall. Mayhap it was growing up.  
  
I wish I could say farewell in person little brother. Are you glad that you were the third son rather than the second? I think the church would not have suited you, Marc, nor war I.  
  
May the Lord keep you safe from harm,  
Michel ~  
  
  
If Michel's letter made Jacqueline melancholy, the mood in the coach became depressing when Jacqueline read of the accident with a pony that had caused Suzanne's death and crippled Etienne. The next letter, out of order in Marc's otherwise perfect filing system, told of the death of Brother Pierre, formerly Michel Laurent, of the plague in 1503. There was a third letter with a thick black border. Jacqueline ignored it. She didn't want to read of more deaths.  
  
Jacqueline hunted through the pile for letters from Monique and Claudette. Both of them made her laugh and she needed to smile now. She was not disappointed.  
  
  
~ 29 September 1503  
  
To Lieutenant Marc Laurent  
Royal Guards  
Hautefort Barracks  
  
Dear Marc,  
  
Fancy meeting you at court. Claudette was determined to take me. I know you thought the matching gowns were funny. Claudette and I could pass for twins if it wasn't for our hair and nearly six years.  
  
When did you get so tall? I can't call you just-bigger brother any more if I have to jump to reach your shoulder! I wouldn't have known the giant I was meeting was you if it wasn't for your grin. When you smile you still look like the boy who threw Julien into the water trough and put the rabbit in Grandmamma's bed.  
  
I shall be staying with Giles and Claudette until Spring.  
  
I hope to see you again before I leave,  
  
Monique ~  
  
  
  
~ 9 October 1503  
  
Lieutenant Marc Laurent  
Hautefort Barracks  
  
Marc,  
  
I was ashamed of your behaviour last night! I invited Mademoiselle LeCordier for you. She is wealthy, well mannered and needs a husband. You were not supposed to spend all night talking to Monique!  
  
Marie may have a bit of a temper and strong voice but that is not reason to ignore her,  
  
Claudette ~  
  
  
Jacqueline read the note again. Marie LeCordier?! She was about to call out to Marc and ask him about the meal, when the Captain and two of the outriders suddenly charged into the forest. Jacqueline held her breath and listened to the sound of a scuffle.  
  
A few moments later the outriders rode back onto the road. They were leading two horses, one of which was Marc's. Jacqueline gasped and hid her face in her hands.  
  
To be continued 


	3. Chapters 4 and 5

Disclaimer - see chapter one.  
  
----------------------------------------  
Reflections - Tapestry of Echoes  
  
Chapter Four  
----------------------------------------  
  
"Look madame," Elaine shook Jacqueline's arm. The young woman uncovered her eyes in time to see her husband emerge from the forest. He was dragging a forlorn looking Lieutenant Vauvallon along by the arm.  
  
"Explain!" commanded Laurent when he released the younger man.  
  
"Uh, His Majesty wanted to be sure you arrived safely, so he ordered that we follow you," Edouard blushed, "unseen."  
  
"We?" Laurent stared at the forest. Slowly ten guardsmen emerged, leading their horses.  
  
Marc glared at the Lieutenant, "Well, now that you've failed hiding you can accompany us openly."  
  
"Yes, sir," said Vauvallon glumly. He ordered the guards into formation, determinedly ignoring the grins from the outriders.  
  
~~~~~  
  
The Captain took advantage of the guard's presence to ride in the coach. Elaine moved to the baggage wagon and left the couple in privacy.  
  
Jacqueline rested her cheek on Marc's shoulder and savoured being alone with him. They sat like that for a long time before Marc moved.  
  
"It's getting too dark to read these now," he said as he packed the letters into the box. He kept one letter out and wound the box back up in the oilskins.  
  
"I haven't finished reading them."  
  
"We'll reach the Chateau tomorrow. You can read them over Winter." Marc put the single letter into his jacket and sat back on the seat. He smiled at Jacqueline's mutinous expression and kissed her nose. "So, what did you want to ask?"  
  
"Did Claudette really try to match you with Marie LeCordier?"  
  
"Uh, yes." Marc was a little puzzled, how she had got to that letter so quickly.  
  
"Celeste's daughter?" Jacqueline was stunned at the thought Marc suffering Celeste for a mother-in-law.  
  
"Yes. It was an amusing evening," Marc grinned. "Almost as funny as when Claudette invited Isabelle Richard."  
  
"She didn't!" Jacqueline noticed Marc's overly innocent look and knew she was being teased. "Oh, you're so naughty sometimes."  
  
Jacqueline smiled and cuddled back into Marc's side, "Claudette is very like Marguerite. Poor Giles was so nagged at our wedding. Well, at least Monique is nice."  
  
"Darling," said Marc after a few moment, "Do you remember when we were courting that I told you I was one of eleven children."  
  
"Yes, at dinner with Henry, Danielle and Leonardo."  
  
"Well, I also said that there were only seven of us left."  
  
"I remember." Jacqueline looked up at her husband's face. "Suzanne and Michel died."  
  
Marc nodded, "And Phillipe, when he was a baby."  
  
"And?" whispered Jacqueline, already knowing the answer.  
  
"And Monique." Marc's voice was sad and hushed. "She died in childbirth five years ago."  
  
Jacqueline sat back and stared at her husband. "Why? Why did you let me learn to love your sister and then tell me this?"  
  
"I'm sorry. I didn't expect you to take it so hard. It was five years ago." Marc said, lamely.  
  
"For me it was today." Jacqueline moved to the other side of the coach and stared at her husband with big, sad eyes.  
  
Marc winced at the pain in his wife's gaze. He silently rolled up the blind and stared out at the hauntingly familiar apple orchards. Eventually he turned back to face her.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
Jacqueline was shocked at how broken and sad his voice was.  
  
Marc whispered, "Going home is hard." He looked up at Jacqueline. "It won't be the same without Michel and Monique."  
  
Jacqueline sat forward and lowered the blind. After a moment she moved to sit beside Marc.  
  
"And your mother?" she said quietly.  
  
Marc nodded, "Fifteen years is a long time." He looked deep into her eyes, "And no time at all."  
  
They held each other close until the coach finally stopped.  
  
----------------------------------------  
Chapter Five  
----------------------------------------  
  
The inn was of better quality than the other inns they had slept in over the last few nights but the fire had gone out long ago in the small fireplace. The breeze from the draughty chimney was becoming icy with the early morning chill.  
  
Madame Chevalierusse Jacqueline Laurent sighed, sat back against the pillows and tried, yet again, to think of a way to make her husband feel better about going home.  
  
'I should be able to do this,' she chided herself silently. 'I've been eighteen for two weeks now and married for a whole month. I'm a lady of the Court, for pity's sake. This should be easy.'  
  
Oh, she had tried the obvious things - kissing him senseless, arranging for the innkeeper's wife to cook his favourite meal, and retiring early to be alone in their room. All of that had definitely cheered him. Yet underneath his good humour he still seemed sad.  
  
"Oh!" Jacqueline shivered and tugged at her shawl as cold air wafted through the bed's thin curtains. Suddenly she found herself being dragged down under the blankets. She looked into Marc's sleepy eyes when he leaned towards her.  
  
"Make me happy," he muttered. "Go to sleep."  
  
Jacqueline looked at him in surprise, how did he know what she was thinking? "But -?"  
  
"Sleep!" ordered the Captain while he dug himself back into his pillows and pulled her into his arms.  
  
"Sleep?"  
  
"Sleep! I shall be all the happier if I don't have to worry about you catching cold," he tucked her head under his chin and held her tight. Jacqueline lay still and fumed until, just before he went to sleep, Marc kissed her forehead and murmured, "Thank you, kitten."  
  
Her anger melted. "You're welcome," she whispered and snuggled against him.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Their bags were packed and they were ready to leave the inn when Marc sat Jacqueline on the bed and handed her the letter he'd retrieved from the box the day before.  
  
"Must I?" Jacqueline looked at the folded paper concerned for what horrible secrets it may contain.  
  
Seeing her reluctance Marc sat down beside her.  
  
"Shall we read it together?" Marc took the paper from her hands and unfolded it.  
  
  
~ 25 September 1510  
  
Captain Chevalier Marc Laurent  
Royal Guards Officer's Barracks  
Hautefort Chateau  
  
Dear Marc,  
  
Congratulations. Naturally we all understand that your wedding must take place at Court. You cannot drag your lady into another province before you marry her. Sadly we shall not be able to attend as we are busy preparing the storerooms for Winter.  
  
Certainly you may visit us over winter. We are all looking forward to it. It is so long since you have been here. You may wish to come before November. The road is not the best since the floods last year.  
  
I do hope your wife will not be bored here. She will find us very countrified compared with the Court and may not find the accommodations to her standard.  
  
No doubt we will receive a detailed report of your wedding from Claudette who is most annoyed that you did not consult her on the matter.  
  
Kindest regards,  
  
Domenic Laurent  
  
Chateau D'Argent  
Normandy ~  
  
  
Jacqueline stared at the letter. It seemed from his words that her father-in-law had already made up his mind against her. She nibbled at her lip and tried to hold back the tears that were threatening to overpower her.  
  
Marc watched the emotions flooding across Jacqueline's face. He put his hand under her chin, "What is it?"  
  
"I had hoped," Jacqueline stopped and a tear ran down her cheek. She took a deep breath, "I had hoped they would like me." She gave a watery smile, "Maybe just a little."  
  
Marc wrapped his arm around her, "They will, sweeting." Jacqueline looked up at him, "Trust me," he smiled, "They will adore you."  
  
"But your father? The letter?"  
  
Marc smiled, ruefully. "He is a terrible letter writer but," he folded the letter with his free hand and placed in his jacket, "he is bound to ask about the letter so you had to see it."  
  
The Captain stood up, "Now, dry those tears and we'll be going."  
  
"Yes, sir," replied Jacqueline in her best impersonation of Lieutenant Vauvallon.  
  
"I beg your pardon?"  
  
Moments later the innkeeper stood open-mouthed and watched the Captain quick-march his giggling lady through the inn and into the stable-yard.  
  
~~~~~  
  
The morning sun had burnt away the last remnants of the light frost by the time the party reached the edge of the D'Argent lands. Jacqueline paid great attention to the scenery in case her new family asked her opinion of their fields and orchards. She saw a few men and women going about their work but no sign of the Chateau.  
  
After ten minutes on the winding road curiosity got the better of her and she leant out of the window. It didn't help. She still couldn't see the Chateau anywhere.  
  
The Captain rode back to the coach and smiled. "You will see it soon. The road winds a little more."  
  
Blushing, Jacqueline nodded and sat back in her seat.  
  
Five minutes later the party rounded a bend and the Chateau came into view. Vauvallon's gasp echoed Jacqueline's thoughts. The Norman Round Castle* that was the main Chateau stood on a small hill. Surrounding it, like mushrooms circling a tree stump, were buildings of assorted shapes and sizes.  
  
When they drew closer Jacqueline could see people working in the fields. She noticed that the buildings included cottages, barns, animal pens and even a smithy.  
  
Chateau D'Argent wasn't a Chateau. It was a town!  
  
To be continued  
  
  
* Old style Norman Round Castle, a bit like le Pieu's home but much bigger. In 1510 the Chateau would be 300 to 350 years old. 


	4. Chapters 6 and 7

Disclaimer - see chapter one  
-----------  
Chapter Six  
-----------  
  
The Captain had sent one of the guardsmen ahead to inform his family of their arrival. Once word was sent to the stables to prepare for the visitor's horses, the news that Master Marc was returning spread swiftly.  
  
People began making their way to the roadside. Many of the Chateau's people wanted to see the man who had been the boy they remembered; others wanted to see Domenic's long-absent son; while some wanted to catch a glimpse of the new Madame Laurent.  
  
In future months Jacqueline would come to know well many of the Chateau's people but that first morning all she could recall were confusing images of the many faces looking at her as the coach passed them by. Being watched by so many people made Jacqueline even more self-conscious. Her nervousness was enhanced by the oppressive and overpowering Chateau that loomed ahead.  
  
The party drove over the drawbridge and into the Chateau's courtyard. Jacqueline watched the huge gate while they passed under it and shuddered, imagining it falling at any moment. She expected the inside of the Chateau to be as dark as the outside; instead it was full of sunlight.  
  
The Chateau's outer wall was a double-walled shell encircling a smaller version of the giant tower. Between the inner wall of the Tower Castle and the smaller tower were buttresses, bridging the two buildings, and above them the sky. The circular strip of ground between the two buildings was a mixture of soil and rock and large enough to accommodate all the people outside and their animals.  
  
The Chateau's miliary facade and sunny interior reminded Jacqueline of her husband. She smiled and hung onto the thought.  
  
"I've never seen anything quite like it," said Jacqueline to Marc, when he helped her to step down from the coach.  
  
"It was made to withstand long sieges and it has survived many." Marc grimaced at Jacqueline's look of concern and quickly added, "Long before my parent's time."  
  
Jacqueline started to ask a question but she was interrupted by the arrival of a servant who informed Marc that his family was waiting for both of them in the great hall. Marc thanked the servant, took his lady by the arm and walked towards the Chateau's main entrance.  
  
As he walked Marc found himself being bombarded by memories. There were the battlement stairs where he and Michel had vanquished dragons; over there was the old seat where his mother had sat and watched her children play; and over there Papa's hawk stand, which Monique had been tied to many a time so Michel and Marc could rescue her.  
  
Marc took a deep breath and smothered the memories, locking them away for a time when he could allow them to overpower him. He felt his hand being squeezed and looked to Jacqueline. She smiled encouragingly. He smiled and squeezed her hand in return.  
  
The inside of the Chateau was not quite what Jacqueline had expected. The entryway walls were covered with tapestries - some of them ancient, others new. The tapestries gave the entry a warm feeling, which was complimented by the light flooding in through the open door and the slit windows. It was a cheerful fortress.  
  
Jacqueline didn't have time to admire the entryway. Marc quickly led her to an arched doorway with an old-fashioned, thick, nailed door. On the wall above the door hung the family crests of the D'Argents and the Laurents. The doorway was meant to impress all entering it. It petrified Jacqueline. She froze.  
  
Marc stopped, kissed her hand and said, quietly, "Chin up. Remember, I am with you."  
  
Marc's words reminded Jacqueline of her trial. She was suddenly struck by the realisation that she was only meeting a few people, not the whole Court. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and nodded.  
  
The couple entered the room.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Their dignified entry was totally wasted on all but one person in the room.  
  
"I tell you the blue room would be best," Domenic Laurent said imperiously.  
  
"But Papa Laurent," replied Marie-Sylvie. "That was Marc's room when he was a boy. It would be too small for two people. The mirror room would be better."  
  
Julian D'Argent Laurent added his opinion that the mirror room would be too cold in winter and made his own suggestion. Both his wife and his father disagreed. The three of them, who were all facing away from the door, took up the argument again.  
  
Jacqueline had the sudden urge to giggle. She hurriedly placed her hand over her lips.  
  
"They are silly, are they not?" said a quiet voice beside her. The speaker was a tiny, elderly woman.  
  
Jacqueline guessed that the woman was as old or older than Signore da Vinci. She would have to stand on a box to look Danielle in the eye.  
  
"Hello," said Marc, quietly. He walked past Jacqueline and enveloped the tiny woman in a hug, completely spoiling the impact of Jacqueline's well-rehearsed curtsy.  
  
"Hello yourself. What do you mean by not visiting for fifteen years?' muttered the old lady. "And when did you grow into the spitting image of your grandfather?"  
  
Marc smiled, "I've got five months to tell you all about it." He held a hand out to Jacqueline. She stepped to his side.  
  
"This is my wife, Jacqueline." Marc smiled proudly and turned to Jacqueline, "Jacqui, this is the Comtess Monique D'Argent. My grandmother."  
  
"I am pleased to meet you, Comtess," said Jacqueline and gave the lady another curtsy.  
  
The elderly lady patted Jacqueline's hand and said, "Please call me Grandmamma." She sighed. "Excuse me, dear."  
  
The Comtess turned to the other three people in the room and roared in an amazingly loud voice that would have done the Royal Guard's best drill sergeant proud, "Will you stop arguing and say hello!"  
  
The argument stopped. Moments later the silence in the room was broken by Domenic's voice, "Good God, Marc, you're a giant and so is your wife!"  
  
-----------------  
Chapter Seven  
-----------------  
  
No one spoke about Jacqueline like that in Marc's presence and got away with it. Not even his own father.  
  
Domenic Laurent stepped towards the son he hadn't seen in years. He stopped abruptly when Marc's angry glare bore into him. Domenic didn't know it but he was being treated to the glare that the Captain used to discipline misbehaving guards under his command. It was a copy of one of King Francis's fiercest stares and Marc had taken some time to perfect it.  
  
"Hello, Marc," Julien, ever the peacemaker, smiled at his younger brother. He tried to extend the smile to his new sister-in-law but the young woman was looking at the floor.  
  
Marc stopped glaring at his father and nodded to his brother, "Hello, Julien. It has been a long time." Marc held tightly to Jacqueline's right hand and willed his wife to look up. After a few moments she did just that.  
  
"Too long," Julien smiled. "Isn't that right, Papa?"  
  
"Yes," Domenic walked up to Marc. "Far too long, boy." He offered his hand to Marc who hesitated for a moment then shook it.  
  
"Sorry about the giant thing, Marc. You surprised me." Domenic's voice was gruff with emotion. He blinked, his eyes moist with unshed tears for the boy he would not see again, and smiled up at the man who towered eight inches above his own modest height. "When I last saw you I could stare you in the eye."  
  
"You still can, Papa," Marc was moved by his father's display of emotion. He felt Jacqueline's hand squeeze his own. He didn't need to look at his gentle wife to know that she was close to tears.  
  
"Will no one introduce me?" Marie-Sylvie's whine shattered the moment.  
  
Julien blushed at his wife's rudeness and mouthed, "Sorry," to Marc and Jacqueline.  
  
"Well, come over here if you want to be introduced." Domenic snapped at his daughter-in-law. "You'll do no good posing back there."  
  
Grandmamma D'Argent took Domenic's comment as her cue to stop watching her family and enter the conversation before Domenic's lack of tact and Marie-Sylvie's vanity destroyed Julien's good work.  
  
"Marc, Jacqueline," the old lady smiled at them, "Please allow me to introduce Marie-Sylvie Laurent, Julien's wife." The Comtess added, "You don't need to curtsy, Jacqueline, we are family."  
  
Marc and Jacqueline nodded in greeting to Marie-Sylvie, who was now standing beside Julien. "Pleased to make your acquaintance," said Jacqueline.  
  
The pretty, ornately dressed woman smiled icily and curtsied. "Pleased to meet you both, if informally," the last two words were directed at the Comtess who ignored them.  
  
"Julien's letters have been full of mentions of you." Marc said, "I feel like I have known you for years."  
  
"Not too many years, I hope," Marie-Sylvie smiled coquettishly at him.  
  
"Only the nine years you've been married to Julien," the Comtess's crisp tones cut through the room. Marie-Sylvie sniffed at the reference to her own age and status and began playing with her necklace.  
  
Marc suddenly recalled comments about Marie-Sylvie's silliness from letters sent to him by Monique and Adrienne years ago. He fought back the urge to laugh.  
  
Domenic cleared his throat. Marc looked away from his silly sister-in-law and turned to his father. Domenic looked pointedly at Jacqueline then back at Marc.  
  
"Oh, sorry," Marc grinned. "Papa, Julien, Marie-Sylvie, please allow me to introduce my wife, Chevalierusse Jacqueline Laurent. Jacqueline, this is my father Domenic Laurent and my brother Julien D'Argent Laurent."  
  
Jacqueline, blushing at Marc's use of her title, smiled at her new family, "I am very pleased to meet you."  
  
"And so are we to meet you. I trust you'll forgive me for being rude before," Domenic kissed Jacqueline's hand.  
  
Julien would have followed suit but a pointed glare from his wife changed his mind. He nodded a greeting to Jacqueline who nodded back.  
  
Julien's slightly nervous but cheerful manner reminded Jacqueline of Danielle's friend Gustave. He appeared to be a gentle, kind man and, aside his height, looked little like his loud father. The only similarity Jacqueline could see between Marc and Julien was their hair and their eyes.  
  
Jacqueline suddenly realised that Domenic was looking intently at her.  
  
"How old are you, my dear?" asked Domenic.  
  
"Eighteen, Monsieur Laurent," said Jacqueline shyly.  
  
"Eighteen?" Domenic looked over at his son, "So you're a cradle snatcher, son? I was expecting a haughty court lady not a sweet little maid."  
  
"Domenic, behave yourself," the Comtess sighed.  
  
"Sorry. Again," Domenic grinned. Jacqueline knew instantly from where Marc had got his own cheeky grin. She giggled at her father-in-law. No matter how outrageous he was she couldn't stay angry with him.  
  
"That's better," said Domenic, imperiously. "Now, young lady, I command you to call me Papa or Papa Laurent, if you prefer. None of this Monsieur business."  
  
"Yes, Papa." Jacqueline smiled.  
  
"Good." Domenic nodded then turned away. "Where had that darned housekeeper gone? It's time we had our luncheon." Domenic walked out of the room. Soon they could hear him yelling for the housekeeper.  
  
"He hasn't changed a bit," Marc said to his grandmother.  
  
"No, he hasn't." Grandmamma Monique sighed, "Unfortunately."  
  
To be continued 


	5. Chapters 8 and 9

Disclaimer - see chapter one  
  
----------------  
Chapter Eight  
----------------  
  
After lunch Marc took Jacqueline on a tour of the Chateau's gardens and the stables. They wandered silently through the kitchen garden; Marc's mind on the past and Jacqueline's on avoiding the splashes from the mud puddles that her husband kept absent mindedly walking through. The gardeners appeared to have been very haphazard with their watering - the wintering garden beds were drier than the path.  
  
"Marc, please!" Jacqueline tried to shake the globs of mud of her skirt. She grabbed a few ivy leaves from a nearby trellis to remove the worst of the mud.  
  
"What?" Marc returned from his childhood memories. He looked down at his wife's skirts. "Uhh, sorry," he said, rather lamely. Then he noticed the state of his previously spotless boots and sighed.  
  
The ivy covered trellis giggled at him. Marc stopped and looked at the trellis. He bit back a grin and returned to examining his boots.  
  
Jacqueline sighed and gave up trying to get the mud off her skirts. "What will your grandmother think of me?"  
  
"I'm sorry, dearest," Marc said. Suddenly he grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her passionately.  
  
Jacqueline blushed. She was about to comment about kissing like that in public when the ivy trellis said, "Ewwwww!"  
  
"Shhhh! They'll hear you!"  
  
Marc looked at Jacqueline and said, "I do believe that the ivy is talking to itself. Amazing."  
  
"Must be a new variety," replied Jacqueline, taking up his cue.  
  
"I'm not ivy!" said the first voice.  
  
"Shhhh!" said the other.  
  
Jacqueline looked at the trellis. "Marc, why is that ivy wearing boots?"  
  
The ivy giggled again. Marc walked up to the trellis. "Come on out, ivy, we can see your boots."  
  
"I told you not to talk Cedric," said Matthew as he dragged his younger brother out from behind the ivy. "You're such a baby!"  
  
"I am not," Cedric stamped his foot. "I'm six. I'm a big boy now."  
  
Marc cleared his throat. The little boys stopped their discussion and looked up at their uncle. Marc grinned, "Well you can't be ivy."  
  
"Why not?" asked Cedric.  
  
"You're not green." Marc looked at his mud-splattered nephews and was certain he knew who was responsible for the mud puddles.  
  
Cedric giggled. Matthew smiled but tried to look serious. He was eight years old and was too big to allow a silly joke to make him laugh.  
  
"We were going to the stables to visit my horse. Would you like to come with us?" Marc asked.  
  
The boys nodded and ran ahead to the garden door where they impatiently waited for the old people to catch them up.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Breakfast was a quiet meal attended by the Comtess, Marie-Sylvie and Jacqueline. Marie-Sylvie had learned early in her marriage to be polite and quiet at breakfast when Domenic was not present. The Comtess was always grumpy in the morning until her second cup of chamomile tea calmed her nerves. She was even grumpier when her loud son-in-law was not around to stir her out of her bad mood.  
  
Jacqueline ate silently. She had the eeriest feeling that she was back at the Manor de Barbarac, breakfasting with her mother and Marguerite. It was almost felt as though Paulette and Louise would walk into the room at any moment.  
  
The feeling was shattered when Marie-Sylvie kindly asked if she would care for more bread. Marguerite would never have done that. Jacqueline declined the bread and smiled. She was beginning to understand Marie-Sylvie. In some ways she was like Marguerite but much less aggressive. Where Marguerite would be catty when she was alone with Jacqueline, Marie-Sylvie would be polite. But if men were around then Marie-Sylvie would fight Jacqueline for their attention.  
  
The men were not in the Chateau. At dinner the previous night Domenic had arranged with his sons to take a tour of the grounds and give Marc a glimpse of the changes that had taken place since he had left.  
  
Just after dawn, while Domenic and Julien had breakfasted in the kitchen, Marc had written a letter. The letter was for King Francis advising of their safe arrival and would be carried by Lieutenant Vauvallon when he left that day. Marc took the letter to the Lieutenant only to discover that he had missed his breakfast for no reason. The Lieutenant and most of the Royal Guardsmen with him had drunk too much of the Chateau's infamous Apple Cider to stand up, let alone ride.  
  
Exasperated, Marc had ordered the few sober Royal Guards to lock the drunkards in the stable to await his return. He reached the kitchen in time to be handed a mug of fresh milk and a piece of bread by his father. He had barely finished the bread when Domenic called for him to hurry up. Marc had drained the mug and, with a longing look at the table laden with food, followed his father and brother out the door.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
An hour after breakfast the Comtess sent a message to Jacqueline, requesting that she go to the entryway. Jacqueline found the tiny lady standing beside one of the tapestries.  
  
"Do you know what families are built on?" The Comtess asked, her voice soft but commanding.  
  
"Love and respect?"  
  
"They are what holds a family together. What builds it is strength and tradition."  
  
Jacqueline wanted to disagree with the old lady but did not dare. The Comtess saw the flicker of rebellion in Jacqueline's eyes and smiled. It appeared that the girl had a backbone after all.  
  
"Tradition, child, can show us love and respect too," the Comtess smiled. "There is a family tradition that you will take part in while you are here. It is one that every woman in the D'Argent family has been a part of for generations."  
  
"What is this tradition?" asked Jacqueline, nervously.  
  
"You must make a tapestry for the wall." The Comtess pointed to an empty space, "And it shall hang there."  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Marc watched the gamekeeper and his men making their way across the fields on their patrol of the D'Argent lands. He'd seen better patrolling from twelve-year-old recruits.  
  
"Father," Marc called over to the well that Domenic was inspecting.  
  
"Yes?" His father stood up and knocked the dirt off his hands.  
  
"I shall have to keep up my military training while I am here." Marc smiled at Domenic. "Would you mind if I borrowed your gamekeepers occasionally?"  
  
Domenic grinned, "Certainly, they could use more than I can teach them."  
  
"Would you teach me how to use a sword, properly?" Julien asked Marc.  
  
"I'd be happy to, Julien."  
  
Marc grinned as his father snorted, "Properly! I taught you properly Julien and don't you forget it."  
  
"No, Papa. Being taught swordplay by you is something I shall never forget." Julien winked at Marc who suddenly developed a coughing fit.  
  
----------------  
Chapter Nine  
----------------  
  
Jacqueline looked around her at the tapestries lining the big room, "But, I shall only be here for five months. These tapestries are so large." She stared at the old lady. "I can not embroider. I do not know how, Grandmamma."  
  
"Dear child, such a fuss." The Comtess took Jacqueline by the hand. "As you are here for only five months the women of the Chateau will help you. The basic tapestry shall be woven for you in the colour you choose. That will take some time. While that is done you shall learn to embroider so you may sew the design you have drawn."  
  
"But I have no talent to do such a thing," whispered Jacqueline.  
  
"That is what I said to my mother-in-law when I was a bride. Yet I made this," the Comtess pointed to the tapestry closest to her. The tapestry, like all the others in the room, was six foot long and five feet across and hung from a wooden pole. It depicted a battle scene. What it lacked in artistic skill it more than made up for with enthusiasm.  
  
"My husband helped me design it," the Comtess's voice became quieter. "Trust a soldier to choose a battle scene." The Comtess lost herself to her memories. Jacqueline waited patiently for the old lady to return to the present. After a few moments, Monique looked into Jacqueline's eyes. "Treasure every moment with him," she whispered then with a shake of her head she returned to the matter at hand.  
  
"My daughter and all my grand-daughters have all been a part of this." She led Jacqueline to another tapestry. "Some willingly, some less so."  
  
This tapestry was the D'Argent arms and had obviously been traced from the coat of arms above the door to the main hall. Almost all the stitches were slightly crooked and the picture was only the outline.  
  
"This was Claudette's effort. She never could be bothered with 'trivial things' as she calls them."  
  
The next tapestry was a mixture of scenes of life in the Chateau.  
  
"Was this your daughter's?" asked Jacqueline.  
  
"Yes. How ever did you guess, child?"  
  
"Marc showed me a letter she wrote it him. It was all about her home and her children."  
  
"They were her life." The Comtess sighed.  
  
"I would liked to have met her." Jacqueline smiled sadly.  
  
"You have," replied the Comtess. "Claudette looks like her, Julien has her sweet nature and Marc has her willingness to defend all who attack his loved ones." She chuckled, "Domenic will take a while to recover from that stare yesterday. Very few people stand up to him."  
  
"Grandmamma, compared to His Majesty and my mother, Papa Laurent is a -," Jacqueline giggled, "is a mouse."  
  
"A very loud mouse," laughed the Comtess.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Over the next hour Jacqueline was taken on a tour of all the tapestries in the room. The tapestries by Marc's sisters-in-law, Marie-Sylvie and Yvonne, were very simple and gave Jacqueline the courage to believe that maybe she could make something simple too. Yvonne's even had pieces of cloth sewn onto it in place of embroidery. The Comtess explained that the cloth came from Yvonne's wedding dress.  
  
The tapestry by Marc's great-great-grandmother awed Jacqueline. To have something that stretched back that far, even if it was moth eaten and falling apart, was amazing to her. She had nothing from her parents, save a few trinkets of her mothers. Right there and then Jacqueline decided that when she returned to Hautefort she would write to her uncle, the Baron de Ghent, and renew her acquaintance with her father's family. She would like to know more about her father.  
  
"These are the last two, dear," the Comtess murmured tiredly. Jacqueline suddenly realised how long the old lady had been standing. She summoned a servant and asked for a chair to be brought into the entryway for the Comtess. The old lady gave Jacqueline a stern look for intervening but sat with a grateful sigh.  
  
Jacqueline examined the last two tapestries. She already knew who had to have made them, Marc's sisters Monique and Adrienne.  
  
Monique's tapestry reflected the girl who had written the funny letters to Marc. It was a mass of scenes without any apparent order, some of them running into each other. It was almost a diary of Monique's life. Down the centre of the tapestry was a sideways picture of two boys fleeing from a dragon that was being attacked by a young girl riding cow. Jacqueline looked again. No, the girl was riding a strangely stitched horse. Across the bottom right of the tapestry was a love heart with the letters M and T inside it. The heart partially covered some of the earlier pictures.  
  
The Comtess smiled, "It was ironic that my namesake was so like her father. While Adrienne, who was named for her father's grandmother, is so like her mother."  
  
Adrienne's tapestry was magnificent. At the top were her parent's names, below that were the names of all their children. The names were linked by ivy that entwined through the names and formed the top of tree. The trunk of the tree was the Chateau and the entire tapestry was edged with beautifully stitched apple blossom and ivy leaves.  
  
"Before you worry about competing with that just remember that Adrienne didn't marry until recently. She spent eight years working on her tapestry."  
  
Jacqueline nodded and sighed. "Grandmamma, I have no idea of what to make."  
  
"Then I suggest you think."  
  
A smile crossed Jacqueline's face. The old lady sounded so like someone she knew well. Jacqueline knew exactly who could help her.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
The next morning Lieutenant Vauvallon and the Royal Guardsmen left the Chateau with Captain Laurent's comments on their behaviour ringing in their ears and two letters to be delivered to Hautefort in the Lieutenant's pocket.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Life at the Chateau quickly fell into routine. Each day Domenic, Julien and the Chateau's manager worked together to prepare the Chateau for winter. The Comtess and Marie-Sylvie looked after the running of the house and the children. Marc trained in his grandfather's armoury or accompanied his father and brother - anywhere that was away from his childhood haunts and the main rooms of the house. Meanwhile Jacqueline spent her days with the housekeeper who was instructing her on embroidery.  
  
At first Jacqueline wasn't at all suspicious but after the second day she was sure something was wrong. Embroidery, it seemed, involved counting the linen, working out the meals for the day, understanding which servants did what in the Chateau, tying up herbs for drying, and the general running of a large household. After a week the two things Jacqueline hadn't seen at all were a needle and thread.  
  
The last straw came on the eighth day when Jacqueline found that she was to spend the day in the nursery.  
  
"What do babies have to do with embroidery?" Jacqueline asked the housekeeper, while the nanny passed Sylvester to her. She held her one-year-old nephew at arm's length as he tried to grab her hair.  
  
"The Comtess instructed that -."  
  
"I learn this part of embroidery today," interrupted Jacqueline. She knew the argument off by heart for the housekeeper and the Comtess had used it every day.  
  
"Yes, Milady." The housekeeper excused herself and left Jacqueline with Nanny Amy, the middle-aged ruler of the nursery.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Four hours later, it was a bedraggled Jacqueline who met her husband in the dining room for lunch.  
  
Marc saw the frustration in her eyes and bit back a smile. He silently pulled a small piece of damp bread out of his wife's hair, which was hanging in a loose tangle down her back.  
  
"Marc, if we ever have children I shall give them away until they are ten!"  
  
"I understand that it's easier when they're your own children." Marc said quietly.  
  
Jacqueline burst into tears. "I'm terrible with them. They scare me."  
  
Marc offered her his handkerchief just as Domenic entered the room. The older man laughed at Jacqueline's messy appearance.  
  
"Looks like you have met Sylvester and Stephanie." Domenic walked up to his tearful daughter-in-law. "I take it no one warned you about three-year-olds?"  
  
"Jacqueline was the youngest in her family," said Marc.  
  
Domenic nodded his understanding. He knew almost nothing of his daughter-in-law's past. That was something he intended to change very soon.  
  
"Well," said Domenic cheerfully, "Julien does not need my help this afternoon. What if I go to the nursery with you? I'm a bit of an expert."  
  
"Thank you, Papa." Jacqueline dried her eyes. "I would like that."  
  
"We can delay lunch for a few minutes. You go and tidy up." Domenic smiled at Jacqueline. His smile disappeared when Jacqueline left the room and closed the door. "Where did you find her, Marc? Your grandmother says she knows almost nothing that a lady should."  
  
"Jacqueline is a lady, father. I do not wish to hear you speak ill of her."  
  
"Son, I did not mean -."  
  
"I know you didn't, father." Marc sighed, "Jacqueline's mother was a Baroness. She did not do her best for Jacqueline. She was not the Baroness's favourite."  
  
"But to neglect her education so." Domenic's voice was unusually quiet. "She cries so easily. She did not had a happy childhood?"  
  
"Not a good one. Although her step-sister suffered far worse under the Baroness than Jacqueline, in some ways Danielle came out of it much stronger." Marc grinned ruefully, "Though I'm biased, of course."  
  
Domenic chuckled at the comment then became serious again. "I expect to hear all about your wife's past soon."  
  
Marc was about to reply to his father's comment when the Comtess, Julien and Marie-Sylvie arrived for lunch. A few moments later a much calmer Jacqueline joined them.  
  
To be continued 


	6. Chapters 10 and 11

Disclaimer - see chapter one  
  
-------------------  
Chapter Ten  
-------------------  
  
"Your breakfast, Captain."  
  
"Thank you," Marc said quietly. "Please inform my father that we shall be downstairs for luncheon."  
  
"Yes, Captain." The girl bobbed a curtsy and left the bedroom, closing the door behind her.  
  
Marc picked up a boiled egg from the tray and sat on the edge of the bed. Marc waved the egg under his sleeping wife's nose. Slowly Jacqueline woke.  
  
"Is it morning?" she stretched and yawned. The night before she had fallen asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. Keeping up with two children had been tiring; two children and Domenic were exhausting.  
  
"Dawn was three hours ago." Marc smiled and held the egg in front of Jacqueline's eyes. "Breakfast?"  
  
"Breakfast? Here? But your family?" Jacqueline sat up and started to climb out of bed. "Your grandmother has so many things for me to do."  
  
"Not today. This morning is for you and me, alone." Marc commanded. He hesitated before adding, "I am sorry, sweeting. I have neglected you this last week."  
  
"You have been busy with your family," Jacqueline kissed his cheek and took the egg from him. "I understand. It's the right thing to do. Your family must come first."  
  
"No, they don't!" Marc was angry with himself. He had forgotten how easily his family could take over a person's life. Over the last week he had been busy running away from his memories - throwing himself into training and collapsing exhausted into the bed every night. He hadn't even asked Jacqueline how any of her days had been spent.  
  
After his father had spoken about Jacqueline, Marc had spent the afternoon in the Chateau and talked to his grandmother. The old lady's 'tapestry' training explained Jacqueline's tearful behaviour. The Comtess's manipulative tricks were close enough to Rodmilla's actions to worry Marc. He was sure that Jacqueline was beginning to fall back into her old habits; destroying her fragile self-confidence. It was his fault, if only he had explained Jacqueline's past to his family this might not have happened.  
  
"No one is more important to me than you!" Marc kissed Jacqueline's nose, "Forgive me?"  
  
Jacqueline was puzzled by Marc's obvious feelings of guilt. He had nothing to be guilty about. 'Oh well, if he wanted to be forgiven.' She nodded and gave him an eggy kiss of forgiveness. Marc laughed and hugged her, spattering the remains of the egg across their clothes.  
  
Marc looked into her eyes, "Boiled egg becomes you, milady." He licked the pieces of egg off her hand.  
  
It was a long time before they ate their stone cold breakfast.  
  
-------------------  
  
"So you've decided to stop avoiding us?" Domenic greeted Marc and Jacqueline when they entered the dining room for lunch. Domenic offered Jacqueline his arm and led her to her chair.  
  
"It isn't us Marc is avoiding," said Julien quietly from where he stood watching the falling rain through the slit window. "Is it brother?"  
  
"No." Marc looked into his brother's eyes. "You always could read all of us like a book."  
  
Domenic sat in his chair. "What are you boys talking about?"  
  
"Nothing important father," Julien smiled. "Just something Marc and I are going to discuss later."  
  
Domenic hesitated, whenever Julien spoke in that soft tone he sounded so like Francine. Being reminded of his late wife made Domenic snappy.  
  
"Well? Are you two going to sit down?" Domenic demanded loudly. He ignored Marie-Sylvie's dramatic sigh, the Comtess's glare and Jacqueline's tiny smile.  
  
"Certainly father." Julien walked to his seat. "It will survive a bit more waiting."  
  
"Hmph!" said Domenic, sure that he'd missed the point of the conversation but too proud to ask.  
  
-------------------  
  
Lunch was almost over when the Comtess announced. "I have decided that today we shall take Marc and Jacqueline's lead and do something different. Will you all join me in the sitting room? I have received a letter from Claudette and I would like your opinion of it."  
  
Talk of letters reminded Marc of the letters Vauvallon was carrying. He hoped Guards had reached Hautefor safely. It was past time for a reply. He knew that there was no use in worrying something he couldn't change. Probably the foul weather had simply delayed the courier.  
  
Soon they were all seated in the sitting room and the Comtess was reading them the letter.  
  
  
~ 30 September 1510  
  
Dear Grandmamma,  
  
I have never been so stunned in my entire life. For years I have been trying to find Marc a decent wife. Anyone would have done for he's certainly not beautiful. I have introduced him to women of many ranks - ladies, comtesses, baronesses, widows and maids.  
  
So what does my ungrateful brother do? He goes off and gets himself married to the Queen's ward! How in the world am I supposed to compete with that? ~  
  
"Is this true?" Domenic interrupted. He looked at Marc. "Is it?"  
  
"Yes, father, Jacqueline was made the Queen's ward just over two months ago." Marc shrugged and muttered, "I'll get Claudie for this."  
  
The Comtess, who had excellent hearing for such an elderly lady, said, "You'll do no such thing. You've been here a week Marc and told us nothing. At least Claudette has the decency to speak to us."  
  
"Impolitely," murmured Julien.  
  
The Comtess ignored him and continued reading.  
  
~ I do not understand how such a mousey person could be the Queen's ward. ~  
  
Marc growled. Again, the Comtess ignored the interruption and kept reading.  
  
~ She barely speaks and is such a tall girl. Her wedding dress was the strangest thing. Someone told me it was designed by Leonardo da Vinci but I do not see why such a great artist would design an emerald green dress with silver horses beaded down the front and feather and bead flowers and butterflies in her hair and on her train. It was most bizarre.  
  
Can you imagine, Grandmamma, they kept me out of the wedding? I attended of course but I was not allowed to advise on anything. It was most annoying. It also explains the horrible dress. ~  
  
"It was a beautiful dress," said Jacqueline quietly.  
  
Julien was laughing, "Claudette not having her way. Oh I wish I had seen it." He grinned at Jacqueline. "Was she very bossy?"  
  
Jacqueline smiled, remembering the tiny, commanding Claudette charging into their lives. "Yes she was but Her Majesty was bossier." She blushed at Marc's scolding look and listened to Julien's laughter. Domenic began laughing too.  
  
"I am so sorry, Grandmamma," Marie-Sylvie said haughtily. She glared at Julien who bit his lip to stop laughing.  
  
Domenic laughed at Marie-Sylvie, which started Julien off again. It was two minutes before the Comtess continued reading.  
  
~ 18 October. My apologies, Grandmamma. Giles was ill with a mild fever and I had no time to finish this letter until now.  
  
I forgot to tell you the most shocking things. Not only was Prince Henry Marc's best man but His Majesty King Francis gave the bride away! I thought that Prince Henry was being kind because Marc works for him but yesterday I discovered that Princess Danielle is Jacqueline's stepsister.  
  
I did not think my brother was clever enough to make such a powerful alliance. He obviously has more political sense than I thought.  
  
Kindest regards  
  
Claudette, Comtess de Chantourelle. ~  
  
  
The Comtess looked at her son-in-law, "I am sorry Domenic but I believe Claudette may be the silliest person I know."  
  
"I love Jacqueline, grandmother," said Marc fiercely. "I did not marry her for her connections."  
  
"We know," Julien smiled.  
  
"You do?" Jacqueline asked quietly.  
  
"You are so sweet together it is sickening," said Marie-Sylvie.  
  
Domenic and Julien almost collapsed with laughter.  
  
  
-------------------  
Chapter Eleven  
-------------------  
  
With the ice broken over Jacqueline's past, Marc told his family about Rodmilla, Marguerite and Danielle. He told them of Danielle's life and how horribly the Baroness treated her and the Manor's servants. Next he spoke of the Masque and Danielle's sale, rescue and marriage. The Laurents and the Comtess had heard of Henry's marriage but Claudette's previous letters had spoken of a Spanish Princess not a French girl. Until earlier in the day they had no idea that the new Princess wasn't Gabriella.  
  
"You could have written and told us who the Princess was," Marie-Sylvie said to Marc, earning herself a glare from Domenic and Julien for wandering off the subject.  
  
"Uh, I was a little busy." Marc ignored Julien's smirk and continued speaking. He told them of Jacqueline's life with her mother and sister, of how they tried to destroy her self-esteem and leave her behind. He went onto the crown-hunting behaviour of Rodmilla and Marguerite, their treason and their punishment. The story shocked Domenic into silence.  
  
When Marc finished telling his very biased version of Jacqueline's trial, the reinstatement of her good character by the King and how she became a Royal Ward, Domenic stood up. He walked over to Jacqueline and hugged her tightly for a full minute. Then he kissed her cheek and silently returned to his chair.  
  
"That's how we all feel," said Julien quietly. He was thinking of the happy childhood he had enjoyed in the Chateau. Julien couldn't imagine life without his family's love and support. He was glad that both Jacqueline and Danielle had found happiness in their lives.  
  
Jacqueline was surprised that Marie-Sylvie didn't glare at her husband for commenting on her behalf. Instead, she nodded graciously to Jacqueline and said, "It is good to see you so happy."  
  
"Oh, my dear girl. It must have been so difficult for you," the Comtess's eyes were damp from unshed tears. The old lady sighed and dried her eyes.  
  
"Not really, Grandmamma." Jacqueline smiled reassuringly. "I had food, clothes and I was taken to Court. I did not have to work like a servant. Unlike Danielle."  
  
"Cruelty comes in many forms," said Domenic, who was as biased as his younger son.  
  
Jacqueline looked around the room at her husband's family. These people actually cared about her enough to be upset by Marc's tale. Having the Royal Family care about her had given Jacqueline confidence. The unconditional love from Marc's family was overpowering. She clung to her husband's hand and took a deep breath.  
  
"I don't know what to say. You're so kind to me," she said softly. "Thank you doesn't feel adequate."  
  
"You're part of my family, Jacqueline," said Domenic.  
  
"We all care for every member of our family," added the Comtess in a gruff voice.  
  
"And we mean everyone, including you," said Domenic in a no nonsense tone.  
  
"And the big lump sitting beside you who's crying like a baby," Julien grinned.  
  
"I beg your pardon! I am not a lump and I'm not crying," Marc's loud sniff ruined his argument. "The roof must be leaking."  
  
Jacqueline smiled and wiped a tear off her husband's cheek while Julien and Domenic laughed. The Comtess ordered refreshments for everyone and changed the conversation to the winter harvest.  
  
-------------------  
  
After dinner Domenic asked Marc to accompany him on a walk to the drawbridge. They walked along in silence for a few minutes, their breath steaming in the cold night air and their boots crunching on the icy, damp ground.  
  
They had almost reached the raised drawbridge when Domenic broke the silence.  
  
"This le Pieu? Weedy, smarmy man who sends a shiver up your back and your hand to your sword?"  
  
"Yes," replied Marc, curious as to how his father could describe the ex-armourer so accurately.  
  
"The King let him go?"  
  
"He was banished from the province for two years and stripped of his position as Royal Armourer." Marc kept pace with his father while they walked back towards the Chateau.  
  
"So he's free to roam Normandy. Does His Majesty believe he'll obey the banishment?" Domenic asked quietly.  
  
"I can not say," Marc replied. The look in Marc's eyes told Domenic that his son doubted le Pieu's ability to stay away from the Royal Court.  
  
"You should know, Marc, that he passed through the town about two months ago. He was selling weapons and he had a number of foul-looking men with him." Domenic watched his son's reaction to the news. "He hasn't been seen in the town since, so he may not return."  
  
"If that worm shows up here I shall deal with him." The Captain's contempt for le Pieu was as chilling as the night air.  
  
Domenic saw the steely glint in Marc's eyes and for the first time in his life Domenic was glad that he was not his son's enemy.  
  
-------------------  
  
Jacqueline's life at the Chateau quickly fell into a new routine. The morning after Claudette's letter had arrived and changed everything, the Comtess and Jacqueline came to an agreement. Jacqueline would continue her 'good housekeeping' lessons four days a week until the Chateau's women had time to weave her tapestry. In exchange, on the other two free days Jacqueline could do what she wished in the Chateau and it's grounds. The seventh day, Sunday, was reserved for the small service held in the Chateau's tiny chapel and spending time with Julien and Marie-Sylvie's children.  
  
Jacqueline had already been told exactly how Sundays were spent in the Chateau from Marc's nagging on the subject. Marc had made a big mistake on the Sunday after their arrival at the Chateau. He had taken his horse out to exercise it and spent all day in the fields. His Grandmother had been so unimpressed that she had told Marc not to do it again on pain of dire consequences.  
  
Marc had foolishly asked, "What consequences?"  
  
To which the Comtess replied, "How long is it since you looked after four children under ten? On you own?"   
  
Marc instantly promised to spend all the Sundays he was at the Chateau with the family. His grandmother had every intention of making him stick to his promise.  
  
To be continued 


	7. Chapters 12 and 13

Disclaimer - see chapter one  
-------------------  
Chapter Twelve  
-------------------  
  
The horses galloped down the wintering road, the beasts' riders intent on their race. The stallions' muscles strained as they thundered under tree branches, around potholes and through puddles left by the previous night's rain. Slowly the larger of the beasts edged ahead and, with a cheer of victory from his rider, he reached the signpost first.  
  
"I told you he would outrun your horse," Marc grinned at Julien. "Even with the head start I gave you."  
  
"He's a beautiful animal," Julien said as the men slowed their horses to a trot.  
  
"Sadly he knows it." Marc leant forward in the saddle and patted Orion's neck. The stallion nodded as if agreeing with his master. The men laughed.  
  
"You need to do more of that, Marc." Julien slowed his horse to a walk.  
  
"What do you mean?" Marc said as the horses matched their pace.  
  
"Monique and Michel would be upset to see you so sad." Julien sat silently for a moment. "The best way you could honour them is to remember the good times. It's been long enough, Marc."  
  
"I know." They rode in silence for some time. They had almost reached the Chateau before Marc spoke again.  
  
"The thing is Jules, since the day I met the King on the battlefield I've jumped from posting to posting. Always too busy to stop until last January."  
  
"When you were wounded." Julien's voice was hushed. He remembered the day his father had received word that Marc had been injured protecting Prince Henry and shuddered at the memory. From the tone of Claudette's letters they'd all expected a death notice at any moment. Somehow Marc had defied the odds and survived the shoulder wound. The other Royal Guards who had been protecting the Prince weren't so lucky.  
  
"Yes. I would have been retired out of the Guard if they hadn't been desperate for officers." Marc smiled ruefully. "That wound slowed me down for a bit."  
  
"And eleven years of life caught up with you." Julien said as they rode into the stable-yard.  
  
Marc grinned. "When did you get so darn wise?"  
  
"Mama taught me," Julien smiled.  
  
The men dismounted from their horses and entrusted the beasts to the grooms. They were walking towards the main Chateau when Julien reached up and touched his brother's shoulder.  
  
"Accept the past and seize the present. That's what Grandpapa would say." Julien chuckled. "There's one part of the present you seize well."  
  
Marc grinned wickedly; "She doesn't run too fast."  
  
"And do you?"  
  
Marc walked a few paces ahead of his brother. "Beat you to the drawbridge," he called over his shoulder and began to run.  
  
"That's not fair," called Julien as he hared after him, cursing at his riding boots, which were almost impossible to run in.  
  
Matthew and Cedric watched their Papa race their uncle across the yard. Both boys thought that the old people were being silly. Cedric giggled. His brother told him to be quiet and tried to pretend his father wasn't being so very embarrassing.  
  
Marc was lumbering across the Chateau forecourt when he saw the Royal Courier calmly standing by his horse. The Captain slid to a halt.  
  
Julien D'Argent Laurent, heir to the Comte D'Argent and owner and master of the Chateau D'Argent yelled, "Nayyh, nayyh," before charging past the Captain and running the last fifty feet to the drawbridge.  
  
Julien ran across the drawbridge then walked back to his brother. "I won the race!"  
  
"I kept my dignity," gasped Marc.  
  
"You need to run more." Julien laughed.  
  
"Do not!"  
  
Shooting a glance at the smirking Courier, Julien said, "Do too," and poked his tongue out at his brother.  
  
"That's not fair, Papa!" Matthew's voice rang out across the forecourt. "You said we weren't allowed to do that."  
  
"Get yourself out of that one, Julien." Marc chuckled. He watched his brother chase after the boys who were sticking their tongues out at him.  
  
Marc straightened his jacket and walked over to the Royal Courier as though nothing unusual had happened.  
  
"Captain Laurent. I have letters for yourself and your lady, sir." The Royal Courier handed Marc the letters.  
  
"Thank you," said the Captain, studiously ignoring the twinkle of amusement in the Courier's eyes. He recognised the man. He was one of Captain Comte le Riche's best couriers.  
  
"Were you delayed?" barked the Captain in a parade ground voice.  
  
"No, sir," the man snapped to attention. "I came directly, sir."  
  
The Captain nodded and gave orders to a nearby servant that the Courier and his horse were to be fed, watered and housed for the night.  
  
"I may have a reply for you. I will give it to you before you leave tomorrow."  
  
"Thank you, Captain." The Courier cleared his throat, "Sorry for losing you the race, sir."  
  
"Forget it," replied Marc.  
  
"That's kind of you, sir."  
  
"No, that was an order," growled the Captain. "Forget it!" He waved his hand in dismissal.  
  
"Yes, sir." The Courier saluted and led his horse towards the stables as fast as the tired beast could walk.  
  
  
-------------------  
Chapter Thirteen  
-------------------  
  
The Captain marched into the Chateau, the letters in his hand sitting heavily in his thoughts. He was halfway across the entryway when he saw his wife examining one of the tapestries.  
  
"Hello," Jacqueline said timidly.  
  
"Hello," the Captain kissed Jacqueline's cheek and watched her blush. Marc had realised some time ago that Jacqueline became shy of him when he was in military mode. It concerned him that she treated him differently when he was working. It was something he was determined to cure before they returned to the Royal Court.  
  
"How has your day been?" he asked quietly.  
  
"Tiring, until I sent the boys outside." Jacqueline smiled. "They exhausted your grandmother. She's gone to her room." The couple walked through the doorway, which not so long ago had terrified Jacqueline. Now she looked at the room with affection.  
  
"The Courier arrived," Marc handed Jacqueline her letter.  
  
"Did he have any news of Hautefort?"  
  
"I'll ask him later, when we can talk alone." The memory of his race with Julien popped into Marc's mind. He cleared his throat and looked around for an empty chair.  
  
Jacqueline noticed that Marc looked a little embarrassed. She wondered why. Almost instantly her question was answered.  
  
"Why were you and Uncle Marc running, Papa?" Matthew's voice was accompanied by the slamming of a door.  
  
Marc sighed with embarrassment and Jacqueline hid her grin with her hand.  
  
"Cedric, don't kick the doors shut like that!" Julien's voice echoed down the corridor and through one of the long room's doorways. "I told you Matthew, your Uncle and I were being silly. Grown ups are allowed to be silly you know."  
  
The voices were getting closer when Jacqueline whispered. "I think I'll read my letter upstairs," She was trying not to look at her husband's face in case she started giggling. "I'd rather not share it with the boys."  
  
"I've got a better idea," Marc whispered back. He took hold of Jacqueline's hand and quickly led her through the room's centre doorway. "Let's be silly," he whispered, picking up on Julien's comment. Jacqueline giggled as Marc led her to his father's study and knocked on the door. There was no answer. Marc opened the door and checked that Domenic wasn't there.  
  
"The boys aren't allowed in here." Marc whispered.  
  
"Are we?"  
  
Marc winked and pulled his wife into the room.  
  
"Marc!" Jacqueline's soft voice was surprisingly loud in the small room. "Won't your Papa be annoyed?"  
  
"Our Papa." Marc squeezed her hand. "I doubt it."  
  
Jacqueline stared at Marc for a moment then nodded, accepting his judgement. Marc smiled, let go of her hand and sat down in his father's stone throne-like chair. She watched him open his letter then turned to examine Domenic's sanctuary.  
  
Like most of the Chateau, the walls were grey stone. At one end of the room was a fireplace with an ancient, misshapen log rack inside it. The fire had burned down to embers. The Gothic slit windows on the south wall were typical of the Chateau and allowed a little light and a strong draft into the room. By the door stood an old cabinet, its open doors revealing Domenic's personal treasures. On the cabinet shelves were: old, worn toys; poorly made items made by young, enthusiastic hands; a shawl and comb; a few, well-worn books; bundles of letters; a collection of stones, twigs and leaves; and a lock of golden hair tied with a ribbon.  
  
Jacqueline nibbled at her lip. She didn't like invading her father-in-law's privacy like this.  
  
"Marc, I really think that we should leave." She turned and stopped when she saw the expression on her husband's face. "What is it?"  
  
Marc handed her the letter.  
  
  
~ 9 November 1510  
To Captain Chevalier Marc Laurent  
Chateau D'Argent  
Lower Normandy  
  
Chevalier,  
Events have occurred in the last week, which require the attention of the Royal Guard. The Duc de la Grand has plans to deal with the matter. At this moment only this province is involved.  
  
We do not require your presence at this point in time, however should We have need of you a troop of Our Royal Horse Guards will be sent with your orders. If all goes well We shall not see you until your return to Hautefort in late March.  
  
We hope that both yourself and your lady wife are well and that your family is enduring your stay with good temper.  
  
God be with you both Marc,  
  
Francis  
King of France ~  
  
  
"What can have happened to change things so quickly?" Jacqueline handed the letter back to Marc. "Could it be the Spanish?"  
  
"I don't think so." Marc glanced over the letter again. "They have no reason that I know of to cause trouble. It's something internal." Marc sighed, "I should go back."  
  
"His Majesty said he wants you to stay here." Jacqueline suddenly realised that Marc may have to go to war very soon and she shuddered at the thought.  
  
"I know," Marc looked up at Jacqueline and saw the fear in her eyes. He grabbed hold of her hand and pulled her into his lap.  
  
"What does Leonardo say about your tapestry?" he pointed to the letter.  
  
"I didn't write to Leonardo," said Jacqueline brokenly.  
  
"No tears now," Marc kissed her cheek. "Why don't you read me your letter?"  
  
Jacqueline opened the letter, cleared her throat and read aloud.  
  
  
~9 November 1510  
Lady Jacqueline Laurent  
Chateau D'Argent  
Normandy  
  
Dear Jacqueline,  
  
My dear I was so flattered to be asked to assist you with your tapestry. It is so kind of you to think of me.  
  
You say that you do not know what to do with the design of your tapestry. That is not true. You do know, child, you simply have to believe in yourself. ~  
  
"I've been telling you that since we were married," Marc interrupted. "Are you listening now?"  
  
"I do try!"  
  
"I know you do, sweeting." Marc watched his wife as she continued reading and wished, yet again, that he'd made Rodmilla pay with her life for what she'd done to Jacqueline.  
  
~ I consulted Signore da Vinci, who forgives you for not approaching him directly. The Signore recommends that whatever you do it should be true to yourself and what you feel.  
  
My own opinion is that you should do whatever you feel is best. I am proud of you and your best will be more that enough.  
  
I hope that you and Marc are looking after each other. We all miss you.  
  
Kindest regards  
  
Marie  
Queen of France  
  
P.S. Henry and Danielle are expecting a child in June. You are one of the first people to know. You may tell Marc but no one else, yet. We shall make an announcement when then the current problems with certain former members of the Court have been dealt with. ~  
  
Marc grinned. "I don't know. I go away for a few weeks and the whole world changes."  
  
To be continued 


	8. Chapters 14 and 15

Disclaimer - see chapter one  
  
-------------------  
Chapter Fourteen  
-------------------  
  
"So who could be the 'former members of the Court'?" Jacqueline asked Marc hurriedly, hoping to keep him off the subject of Henry and Danielle's child.  
  
Marc hesitated then said, "I'm not sure but odds are a certain ex-Duc is probably involved. He had a distant claim to the throne and was always trying to undermine Prince Henry's position at Court, especially when Henry was away studying. The old *^#$^@&!"  
  
"Marc!"  
  
"Sorry." The Captain sighed, "He was the sort of man I dislike. Never used a direct attack. Always trying to ruin someone socially but legally he did little wrong. He went too far a few years ago and His Majesty striped him of his title and banished him from the Court for life." Marc remembered the traps the Duc had set to ruin the young Prince's reputation. The attempt to get Henry charged with blasphemy had been the final and the most vicious.  
  
Marc nodded and muttered to himself, "Yes, causing trouble now that Henry's married a commoner would be just the sort of thing that pond-scum would do."  
  
"Marc, Danielle's not a commoner, she's a Princess!" Annoyed, Jacqueline made to climb off Marc's lap but he stopped her by tightening his embrace.  
  
"But she wasn't born one, sweeting. And that's exactly what that ... that ...," Marc desperately searched for a word he could use in a lady's presence, "that excuse-for-a-person would try and use against her." Marc pulled Jacqueline tightly against him, "Don't worry Jacqui, if he's the one causing trouble he's going to get a big surprise. Henry's not the boy he was a few years ago." Marc chuckled, "Oh, to have seen the look on Henry's face when he discovered he was going to be a father."  
  
"Yes," Jacqueline's voice was subdued.  
  
"What's wrong now?" Marc asked, his thoughts still half on the horrible social crimes of the ex-Duc and the problems at Court.  
  
"I'm sorry that I'm not a good wife." Jacqueline whispered into Marc's shoulder.  
  
"What?" Marc tried to fathom what in the world Jacqueline was talking about.  
  
"Danielle's a good wife. She's giving Henry an heir," whispered Jacqueline.  
  
"So that's it." Marc sighed as horrible thought of another man in Jacqueline's life disappeared from his mind as quickly as it'd appeared. "Jacqui, sweeting, don't be silly. You are a wonderful wife. Heavens, we've only been married six weeks. There's plenty of time for us to have children."  
  
"I'm not silly." Jacqueline pouted and Marc grinned.  
  
"Well, maybe a little bit," admitted Jacqueline. "You're not disappointed?"  
  
"That you're a little silly?" teased Marc.  
  
"Not that," Jacqueline gave him a quelling stare.  
  
"Certainly not, I'm enjoying having you to myself. You've seen how rarely Julien and Marie-Sylvie get to spend time alone." Marc smiled, "That'll be us in ten years."  
  
Jacqueline smiled at the thought and kissed Marc passionately. Then she sat back suddenly shy at her own boldness.  
  
"On, no, you can't run away now, my Lady!" Marc grinned and pulled her against him.  
  
-------------------  
  
"I seem to remember that this is my study and that is not a garden seat!"  
  
Jacqueline and Marc broke their passionate embrace. The guilty expressions on their faces made Domenic want to laugh. He controlled his humour and settled for a mild fatherly glare while he strode into the study.  
  
"Sorry, Papa," said Marc, his expression very like Matthew's when he was caught being naughty. "We wanted to escape the children."  
  
"I see. I thought Sundays were the days you were supposed to be with the children?" Domenic walked around the room while he tried to think of an appropriate mild punishment, one that would cause a bit of embarrassment but do no real harm. He continued thinking, while his son and his wife scrambled off the chair, straightened their clothing and picked up the letters they had dropped on the floor.  
  
Marc shrugged, "Besides the ban on entering your study only applies to the children."  
  
"So you're too old to be my son now?" Domenic said quietly.  
  
"No, Papa, but I'm not a child." Marc replied equally quietly.  
  
"Marc," hissed Jacqueline. "Please."  
  
Marc watched his father walk towards him. Domenic had a sly grin on his face, a grin Marc didn't recognise.  
  
"You know, that chair worked for your mother and I too." Domenic winked saucily at his son.  
  
Marc blushed; his face bright red at the embarrassing thought of his parents behaving just as he and Jacqueline had on that very same chair. And to have his father break the rules of etiquette and say it in front of Jacqueline, it was too much.  
  
"Excuse us," The Captain grabbed hold of Jacqueline's hand and marched out of the room. Jacqueline was nearly running to keep up with him.  
  
"Just ask if you want to borrow it again," Domenic called out after them. He chuckled, "Must have hit a nerve," and closed the study door.  
  
-------------------  
  
The next week was an interesting one in the household. It didn't take the family long to realise that although Domenic was speaking to Marc, Marc was not speaking to Domenic.  
  
Domenic couldn't understand what was happening. It had only been a tiny joke, just a little reprimand. Why was Marc taking it so seriously?  
  
Jacqueline kept herself busy by working on her tapestry design, playing with younger children in the nursery and helping Marie-Sylvie finish the winter preparations. She succeeded in avoiding the issue between her husband and her father-in-law by avoiding the Comtess whenever possible.  
  
On Friday, the news arrived that Yvonne, Domenic Luc's wife, had presented her husband with a daughter. The proud Grandpapa immediately set off across country to see the new arrival. Marie-Sylvie had accompanied him to provide whatever assistance she could to the new mother.   
  
The Comtess had had enough of Marc's behaviour and Jacqueline's invisibility. Now with Domenic gone for a few days, the Comtess had her opportunity. Monique cornered her grandson in the armoury, where Marc and Julien had been fencing.  
  
"Your defences are still weak." Marc was telling his brother while they put their swords away.  
  
"Unlike yours I suppose." The Comtess said in a commanding voice. Surprised, the two men turned to face the tiny woman who had silently entered the room.  
  
"What, precisely, has your father done to deserve your attack?" Monique demanded.  
  
Marc began to speak. "I'm not..."  
  
"Don't even think of telling me it's not an attack because your grandfather perfected it over fifty years before you were born." The Comtess glared up at the Captain. "I said you were just like him and I could read him like a book."  
  
"I think I need to be somewhere else," Julien said and quickly fled.  
  
"Well?" The Comtess demanded.  
  
"He always treats me like a child," growled Marc.  
  
"So you respond by acting like one?" The Comtess put her hands on her hips, "Brilliant strategy."  
  
Marc stared at his feet.  
  
"So you'll make him change by not talking to him?"  
  
"No, Grandmamma. But if I talk to him I may say something I can't undo." Marc said angrily.  
  
"You have to forgive him, Marc." Monique took hold of her grandson's hand. "It was so many years ago. Don't let me go to my grave with anger between you."  
  
"You'll outlive all of us, Grandmamma."  
  
Monique winced, "I hope not. There's nothing more terrible that outliving your children and grandchildren." The old lady sighed and squared her shoulders. "Right, Marc, it's time we sorted out exactly what it is that you're going to say to your father. Correct?"  
  
"Yes, Ma'am," Marc saluted his grandmother and followed her from the armoury.  
  
-------------------  
Chapter Fifteen  
-------------------  
  
~ Dear Julien,  
  
Yvonne is doing well. The baby is quite small but has a strong cry and I believe she too will do well, given time. Dommie (I wish your father would not insist I call him that) and Yvonne have decide to name her Felicitie Monique.  
  
Your Papa has suggested that we stay here until Saturday. Then we can help Dommie celebrate his 24th birthday on Friday and represent the family at the baby's baptism tomorrow.  
  
This seems right and proper to me, especially as Felicitie arrived earlier than expected and Yvonne could use my help. I am sure that Jacqueline can help Grandmamma well enough to allow you to survive without me for a week. Of course, if you wish me to come home before Saturday then I shall.  
  
Your father has a message for Marc. He wants Marc to know that we saw the man he was looking for on our way here. The man was travelling South on the Belleme road. Your father was not happy to see him and we rode past him quite quickly in a most undignified fashion.  
  
Your Papa, Domenic Luc and Yvonne send their fondest regards to all the family.  
  
Please give the children a kiss from their Mama. Tell them I miss them and they are to take care of their Papa for me until I return.  
  
Marie-Sylvie ~  
  
  
  
"Well, Marc," said Julien when he finished reading the note aloud, "it'll be a while before you can have that talk with Papa." He folded the note and put it in his jacket pocket.  
  
"Hmmm," replied Marc, his mouth busy chewing his lunch while his mind was chewing over thoughts of le Pieu. 'Why would he be heading South? Was he making a rendezvous with someone? Or was it something more direct?'  
  
"Marc, do you want a leg?" Julien received no reply. As suited his cheerful nature, Julien simply shrugged and attacked the roast chicken; leaving Marc to his thoughts and the chicken's wings. After all, reasoned Julien, luncheon was the main meal of the day and if Marc wasn't awake enough to get a chicken leg, well, more fool him.  
  
At the ladies end of the dining table, the Comtess and Jacqueline were also discussing the letter over their lighter meal.  
  
"I am worried for that child," the Comtess said quietly. "Marie-Sylvie said the baby was small. And to have it baptised within two days. I do not like it."  
  
"Perhaps they are hurrying because Papa Laurent and Marie-Sylvie are there?" Jacqueline replied softly.  
  
"We are only half a day's ride from their manor and we all attended Michel's baptism two years ago." The Comtess said sharply. She shook her head. "I do not like this."  
  
"No, Grandmamma," said Jacqueline in a tiny voice.  
  
The Comtess looked at her newest grand-daughter-in-law and sighed, "Child, you must stop taking every strong word someone says as a personal attack. I simply want to be there, helping my family as best I can."  
  
"I know, Grandmamma. I'm sorry. It's a habit."  
  
"We'll just have to break you of it, won't we."  
  
"Yes, Grandmamma."  
  
The ladies ate in silence for some time. Interrupted only by a minor scuffle at the other end of the table over the last of the chicken.  
  
"Really," muttered the Comtess while she scowled at the antics of her grandsons. "And Julien wonders where Matthew and Cedric get their rowdiness from."  
  
Jacqueline smiled silently, her eyes sparkling with amusement. Sometimes it almost seemed to Jacqueline that Marc was younger than she was. She almost bit her lip when Julien won the wishbone-pulling contest and gave a cheer of victory.  
  
The Comtess sighed "Are the men this bad at the Royal Court?"  
  
"Well, there were some young men having a drinking competition at the Prince and Princess's wedding reception." Jacqueline giggled, "The King had them thrown out when they started singing some very rude songs."  
  
"I'm not surprised!" The Comtess grinned and leant towards Jacqueline. "Can you remember any of the words?" she whispered. Jacqueline nodded and at the Comtess's prompting Jacqueline began to recite the first verse of a very naughty sea shanty.  
  
"Jacqueline de Ghent Laurent! Where in the world did you learn that? And how dare you repeat to my Grandmother!"  
  
Jacqueline smiled innocently up at her husband who had covered the distance from his chair to hers in record time. "I was just telling your Grandmamma about the Prince and Princess's wedding reception."  
  
"And I asked for the details," added the Comtess. "Why? Isn't it appropriate dining behaviour?"  
  
Marc glared at the Comtess and his wife. "You have been around her too long." Marc said to Jacqueline.  
  
"Marc!" Jacqueline gasped. "Grandmamma Laurent, I do apologise for M..."  
  
"That's alright dear." The Comtess smiled at Marc. "I have four more months to improve both of you even more." She winked at Marc.  
  
"This trip was not a good idea," muttered Marc. He returned to his seat and glared at his laughing brother. "Don't you start." He growled at Julien.  
  
"I'm sorry, Marc. I didn't mean to upset you," Jacqueline's voice was quiet but controlled.  
  
"I know," Marc grinned ruefully. "Sorry love. That weasel Le Pieu has got me worried."  
  
"Would it help if we tracked him down?" Julien asked, a mischievous expression on his face. "I'd rather like to escape for a while and do something different."  
  
Marc nodded, "It would be useful to know where he is. It may save a lot of time later." The brothers began making plans to leave the next day.  
  
"While the cat's away," murmured the Comtess so that only Jacqueline heard her. Jacqueline wondered if Domenic or Marie-Sylvie was the cat. She suspected it was her sister-in-law.  
  
"Well, if you are going to desert us, Jacqueline and I have things to discuss. Such as the running of the Chateau, preparing for Christmas and a certain tapestry design that should have been drafted by now." The Comtess stood, Jacqueline and the men followed suit.  
  
"Oh Marc," the Comtess waited until her grandson looked at her. "If you're not going to be here you should put what you wanted to say to your father in writing. Today!"  
  
"Yes, Grandmother." Marc said to the elderly lady's back, while she swanned out of the room. 'That woman,' thought Marc, 'is bossier than King Francis.'  
  
-------------------  
  
By the time Jacqueline met her husband for dinner she had decided on her tapestry design and work on it had begun.  
  
Jacqueline had drafted three designs but the Comtess had efficiently pointed out that two of them did not reflect Jacqueline's personality at all. "This one is yours." The Comtess had commanded, holding up Jacqueline's favourite design. The Comtess had then quashed Jacqueline's arguments against the complexity of the design and the small amount of time she had to complete it.  
  
Next, the Comtess she had taken Jacqueline to the workroom, near the laundry, where the Chateau's women did their needlework and made the tapestries. The women in the room were working on a variety of tasks from mending worn sheets to weaving heavy cloth.  
  
The Comtess called the women together and introduced Jacqueline, who recognised many of them including the blacksmith's wife, three scullery maids, and her own servant, Elaine. Then the Comtess showed Jacqueline's tapestry design to all the women. Much to Jacqueline's surprise the women liked the design and quickly began discussing shortcuts to get it made faster.  
  
They decided they would use an existing blank tapestry and embroider the background under Jacqueline's supervision. To weave the design into a new tapestry would take too long and the background was mostly one colour.  
  
The edging also brought up some discussion. Jacqueline had planned to make it one colour but the women said it would take too long to sew.  
  
"What about that old green dress of yours, My Lady." Elaine had said to her mistress. "We could cut it up and sew the cloth around the edges."  
  
Jacqueline had smiled; suddenly reminded of the Masque and the very pleasant time she'd had, in spite of the horrid dress. "Yes, I'd like that. That old dress has some special memories attached to it."  
  
"Perfect choice, my dear," commanded the Comtess. The old lady had let Jacqueline chat a little longer before she shepherded the tall girl back into the main Chateau for a long discussion about how they were to manage without Marie-Sylvie.  
  
To be continued 


	9. Chapters 16 17 and 18

Disclaimer - see chapter one  
-------------------  
Chapter Sixteen  
-------------------  
  
Two mornings later, Jacqueline waved farewell to Marc and Julien when they rode off to hunt down le Pieu. The men's plans to leave the previous day had been changed by the complaints of Matthew and Cedric. The boys had not wanted to lose their Sunday with their father. They had said it was because they loved their Papa very much and wanted to spend the day with him. Although Marc suspected it had more to do with the sweet treats that Julien gave them every Sunday after lunch than their need to see their father. His suspicions had been confirmed when the boys had disappeared as soon as they had received their treats.  
  
Jacqueline sighed and watched her husband disappear into the distance. Marc looked so handsome on his horse.  
  
"Enough daydreaming, child," the Comtess's words broke into Jacqueline's pleasant thoughts. "Wipe that silly smile off your face. You have got work to do."  
  
"What?" Jacqueline looked at the old woman in surprise. The Comtess sounded so like the Baroness scolding Danielle. Jacqueline did not like the feelings she got when the Comtess spoke like that.  
  
"I apologise child. I've got a bit of a headache." The Comtess looked up at Jacqueline and smiled. "I think I'll go and lie down for a while. I'm sure I will feel better soon."  
  
Jacqueline stood and watched the old lady walk into the Chateau. She knew that smile. The old lady was up to something. Her smile was just like Cedric's when he was being mischievous.  
  
"Well, really," said Jacqueline. Then she suddenly realised what the Comtess had done. Jacqueline was now alone and in charge of the entire Chateau and all of it's people. "What in the world am I going to do?"  
  
-------------------  
  
Marc and Julien had been riding for a couple of hours when they came upon the first clue to le Pieu's whereabouts. The clue was a cowherd.  
  
Julien watched his younger brother politely and efficiently find out the information they needed about le Pieu. Julien had seen Marc in many guises over the last three weeks - husband, son, brother, horseman and fencer - but until now he hadn't seen Marc use his courtly military manners. The Captain was a surprise to Julien, who began to suspect that he might have seriously underestimated his sturdy younger brother.  
  
Claudette had told them of Marc's position in the Court, as had Marc himself, but it wasn't until now that the reality of Marc's rank and position began to sink in to Julien's mind.  
  
"He was definitely headed towards Belleme yesterday," The Captain said, turning Orion to face Julien, with the barest tap of his toe on the well-trained stallion's side. "Which is the best route, the roads or over the fields?"  
  
Julien grinned at Marc, his mind still trying to imagine his brother in his military regalia.  
  
"Julien!" barked the Captain.  
  
The older man blinked, "Umm, the roads would be best. There are hedgerows bordering most of the fields ahead."  
  
Marc nodded and wheeling Orion to face South. "Shall we go then?"  
  
"Yes, sir," Julien grinned, already thinking up ways to get Marc to wear his uniform at the Chateau.  
  
-------------------  
  
In the two hours since Marc and Julien had left Jacqueline had found herself running from problem to problem and solving none of them. The boys were running wild through the house. Two of the footmen wanted to know what they should do with cart full of supplies for Christmas that had just arrived. The head gardener wanted to know which of the kitchen garden beds should be prepared for winter cropping. And one of the maids wanted Jacqueline's opinion of the way Jacqueline's design had been copied in chalk onto the blank tapestry. The last straw was when the housekeeper entered the main hall.  
  
Jacqueline took one look at the woman who was carrying a bundle of worn sheets and burst into tears. The motherly housekeeper evicted the footmen, the gardener and the maid from the room, put the sheets down on the table and ordered a cup of chamomile tea for Jacqueline.  
  
The housekeeper then led Jacqueline to one of the chairs and gently pushed her onto it.  
  
"My lady, please calm down. "It can't be that bad."  
  
"Everything's going wrong." sniffed Jacqueline. The housekeeper patted Jacqueline's hand and waited for the young woman to stop crying.  
  
"Now then, my lady," the housekeeper said quietly. "Let's see if we can't sort this out together."  
  
"Thank you, Clementine." Jacqueline smiled mistily. The housekeeper smiled back as a maid entered the room with the tea.  
  
"You're welcome, my lady." The housekeeper sat down in one of the chairs and the women began to plan the day. Within ten minutes they had decided that Matthew and Cedric would spend the day with Matthew's tutor, whether the boys liked it or not. The Christmas supplies would be put in the main storeroom where Marie-Sylvie had arranged that a space be kept for them. The gardeners could wait until Julien returned the next day. And Jacqueline would spend the morning with the housekeeper, sorting out the little things that needed doing immediately.  
  
"Oh, what about the tapestry?" Jacqueline said quietly. She felt guilty even thinking about it while everything was so disorganised.  
  
"Why don't you look at it now, my lady. A little time away from everything will do you the world of good."  
  
"If you think that's all right?"  
  
"It's not my place to think any such thing, my lady. You should do whatever you wish."  
  
Jacqueline giggled. She would dearly like to see the Comtess behave herself for once. She wondered what Her Majesty would do in Jacqueline's situation. Suddenly, Jacqueline had an idea. Oh no, it was too naughty. She couldn't do that. Could she?  
  
Clementine saw the expression on Jacqueline's face and wondered what the girl was thinking. "My lady?"  
  
"Clementine, the Comtess was not feeling well, a headache she said." Jacqueline hesitated for a moment before continuing. "I would not wish her to make herself more ill by doing the wrong thing." Jacqueline smiled. "Could you please be sure that she eats nothing heavier than clear soup for luncheon?"  
  
The housekeeper nodded, "Certainly, Lady Jacqueline." She grinned and winked at Jacqueline, "It'd be a pleasure."  
  
-------------------  
  
It was five hours after they'd left the Chateau when Marc and Julien saw a column of smoke coming from behind a small copse of trees. Two horses, one matching the description of le Pieu's beast, were tethered nearby.  
  
"Let me do the talking," Marc said quietly. Julien signalled his agreement and followed his brother. The Captain rode his horse into the clearing.  
  
Le Pieu looked up from the fireside. "Do watch where you're riding that thing," he purred. "I don't want my nice, neat campsite spoilt."  
  
"I'll ride where I choose," The Captain replied.  
  
"Oh, I didn't recognise you, Captain Laurent." Le Pieu smiled nastily. ""You've lost a few pounds and that garish uniform. You really should get a better tailor to work on those uniforms, you know. All that gold is so fattening."  
  
Marc glared at the ex-armourer. His cutting reply was stopped by the voice of the other man sitting by the fire.  
  
"I thought you were told to not to interfere, Chevalier."  
  
Marc's eyes nearly bugged out of his head as he recognised the Comte le Riche, Captain of the Royal Couriers and the King's spymaster.  
  
"Now, le Riche," sneered le Pieu, "That's not quite fair. Captain Laurent's on his honeymoon. I doubt he's been using his brain much, recently."  
  
Le Riche scowled at his seedy companion then turned back to Marc and said, "Laurent, a word in private. If you please."  
  
  
-----------------------  
Chapter Seventeen  
-----------------------  
  
Captain Laurent dismounted from Orion and, leading the stallion, walked away from the camp. Le Riche walked beside Laurent. Only the soft thud of the horse's hooves, the crunch of the officers' boots on the cold ground and the crackle of the fire broke the silence.  
  
Le Pieu sneered up at Julien, the scar on his cheek tugging at the side of his mouth. "Come sit by the fire," the armourer's voice turning the invitation into a threat.  
  
"No, thank you," Julien replied, coldly polite to the contemptible man. "I am sufficiently warm here." He backed his horse a little further away from the fire and waited for his brother to return.  
  
-------------------  
  
The Captains had walked close to two hundred yards from the camp before le Riche broke the silence.  
  
"This is a dangerous game you've got yourself involved in, Laurent."  
  
"Treason is not a game!"  
  
"You sound more like that old dog Captain Arnaud every day." Le Riche leant close to Laurent. "You may be a stupid, pompous fool, Laurent, but you are too young to be close-minded."  
  
"Close-minded!" Marc said, louder than he'd intended. Le Riche scowled at him.  
  
Marc silently cursed his own behaviour. He was out of practice in dealing with the spy-master. Marc lowered his voice; falling back into the character of the slow-witted Captain Laurent he'd played many a time in Court.  
  
"What clever scheme are you up to, Le Riche?" Laurent whispered in awed tones. "And what does that posing sleaze have to do with it?"  
  
A sarcastic grin appeared on le Riche's face. "Le Pieu has his uses. He will lead me to the former Duc. In exchange I shall assist le Pieu's return to court, when his banishment is over."  
  
"When do you plan to betray le Pieu?"  
  
"I don't." le Riche smirked. "Not all bargains with villains are false bargains, Laurent."  
  
"Does Prince Henry know of this bargain?" Laurent asked, barely managing to keep the full strength of his anger out of his voice. "I doubt he would be pleased when he hears of it."  
  
"No, my thick friend, he would not be pleased." Le Riche glared calculatingly at Laurent, "But then he's not going to hear of it, is he? Not if your position at court and the lives of your friend..."  
  
"My brother," Laurent corrected, keeping up the act.  
  
Le Riche smiled and pulled a brushed a piece of lint off his sleeve before he said, "Yes, well, if you value the lives of your brother and your pretty young wife, then you won't say a word to anyone." He smiled wolfishly, "Will you, Laurent." It was a command, not a question.  
  
Marc stared into le Riche's cat-like eyes, "I promise that no one bearing the name Laurent will tell the Royal Family nor any member of the guard or anyone at Court of your scheme. On the condition that you leave my family and my position in court alone."  
  
"Certainly, Laurent. Provided that you keep your end of the bargain." Le Riche purred. "After all, I am only doing this to ensure that the King's position is secured."  
  
'Secured for whom?' thought Marc as he led Orion back towards the campsite.  
  
----------  
  
The Comtess saw Jacqueline peek around her open bedroom door.  
  
"Vegetable soup! What kind of a main meal is that for a lady of my standing?" The Comtess demanded from where she lay on the bed, supported by pillows and looking very healthy.  
  
"You said you were unwell, Grandmamma," Jacqueline replied in her quiet, clear voice.  
  
"Not that ill that I can't eat decent food!"  
  
"I'm sorry," Jacqueline nibbled at her bottom lip and stepped into the room.  
  
"Don't you dare apologise. You're a noblewoman, act more like one." Monique grinned. "Besides, I deserved it."  
  
Jacqueline smiled and said nothing.  
  
"Wise move." The Comtess patted the side of the bed. "Sit down and talk to me."  
  
Jacqueline sat on the side of the bed and became engrossed in her fingers.  
  
"Look at me, dear." The Comtess said quietly. When Jacqueline looked up the old lady said, "So, have you been busy today?"  
  
"Very busy until Clementine helped me organise my day." Jacqueline looked through her lashes at the Comtess. "Was that cheating?"  
  
"Cheating? Of course not." She smiled before instructing, "Ladies delegate and organise, just like the gentlemen."  
  
"Would you like some tea and pastries?" Jacqueline said impulsively.  
  
"I've suffered enough have I?" the old lady laughed. "Oh, child, you'll do well. It was a punishment without pain and very inventive." She patted Jacqueline's hand with her own. "I'm proud of you. That grandson of mine is going to have his hands full with you." She winked, "Just as it should be. We can't let the men have everything their own way."  
  
Jacqueline smiled and called for a servant to bring their tea and pastries.  
  
----------  
  
"About time," le Pieu's syrupy voice oozed across the clearing. "I am rather sick of being watched."  
  
Julien ignored the armourer's pointed stare and rode towards his brother. Marc nodded a greeting and mounted his horse.  
  
"Remember your promise, Captain Laurent," said le Riche quietly.  
  
The brothers rode away from the campsite and headed north, towards the Chateau. If they hurried they could make it back to the Chateau before nightfall.  
  
"That man was horrible." Julien said when they slowed their horses to a walk.  
  
"le Pieu's nothing. The Comte is the threat." Marc looked at his brother.  
  
Julien was stunned by his brother's expression. 'What in the world had the Comte said to make Marc so angry?'  
  
----------  
  
Jacqueline heard the approaching horses before she saw them in the evening gloom. The light from the stable-yard torches showed the exhaustion of man and beast. The grooms ran forward to hold take the exhausted horses' reins and, politely, scold the riders about the animals' treatment.  
  
The tired men dismounted from the horses, Julien stumbling when his feet touched the ground. Marc took hold of Julien's arm and led him towards the Chateau and Jacqueline.  
  
"You'll catch your death out here," Marc chided Jacqueline when she kissed his cheek in greeting.  
  
"Yes, dearest," Jacqueline smiled. She had only been in the stable-yard for the few minutes since Clementine had told her that the watch had signalled that the men were returning.  
  
"Hot water and fresh clothes are being taken to the laundry washroom for you both. There'll be a hot meal waiting in the dining room when you are ready." Jacqueline smiled.  
  
"Thank you.' Julien smiled.  
  
"Uh, thank you, sweeting." Marc was so surprised with Jacqueline's calm, organised manner that he used his pet name for her in front of his brother. Jacqueline kissed his cheek again before hurrying off towards the warmth of the Chateau.  
  
"Sweeting?" Julien snickered and Marc sighed in frustration. He could see his brother would make him pay for that slip.  
  
----------  
  
The men were partway through their second helping of the main course when Marc began to tell Jacqueline and the Comtess about le Riche, le Pieu and the former Duc. He fell silent when he'd finished telling them of his chat with le Riche and his promise to the spymaster.  
  
"So what do you want me to say in my letter to Louis-Francis?" Monique asked her grandson.  
  
"I'll think about it overnight and we'll write it tomorrow." Marc yawned. "I'm too tired to think clearly tonight."  
  
"Who is Louis-Francis?" Jacqueline said quietly.  
  
"That's King Francis' real name." Marc replied. "He changed it after he took the throne because of the events of 1495."  
  
"What events of 1495?" Jacqueline asked, shyly.  
  
"Didn't your learn anything about the Royal Family?" asked Julien gently.  
  
Jacqueline shook her head. "The only part of the Royal Family my mother was interested in was Prince Henry."  
  
The Comtess sighed, "Well, I shall have to educate you."  
  
Marc and Julien returned to their meals while the Comtess began to speak. "You see, my dear, in 1495 Louis-Francis, King Francis now, was a Duc. He was also the tenth person in line for the throne of France. His father was Prince Luc-Henri, an uncle of the King at that time." The old lady paused to take a sip of tea and let Jacqueline keep up with the story.  
  
"The Dauphin was Francois, a babe who was less than a year old. In early 1495 a trade delegation arrived from Venice. They brought with them rare artworks, promises of all kinds of exotic goods and their unintentional gift." The old lady sighed sadly.  
  
"What unintentional gift, Grandmamma?" Jacqueline's voice was hushed. She noticed that Marc and Julien had stopped eating.  
  
"They brought a plague." The Comtess's eyes were full of tears. "Within a month the King, the Queen and most of the heirs to the throne were dead. So many nobles died that many of the noble houses lost a whole generation."  
  
"No one ever told me any of this," whispered Jacqueline.  
  
"It's rarely talked about," Marc said quietly. "Especially not at court."  
  
"We were lucky," the Comtess's quiet, sad voice echoed in the silent room. "All the family except Marc were here. The old Prince was a friend of my husband and I, and he often wrote to me after Michel died. The Prince was devastated when he discovered he'd gone from ninth in line to the throne to King." Monique's eyes focussed on some far away place as she entered her memories.  
  
Julien took up the story. "Prince Luc-Henri was crowned King and moved the court to a different Chateau. His son, then in his thirties and with a wife and 8 year old son, found himself being declared the Dauphin. A year later the King died in his sleep and Louis-Francis became King."  
  
The room was quiet for some time. Eventually Jacqueline said, "Grandmamma, did Louis-Francis change his name in honour of the Dauphin who died in the plague?"  
  
The Comtess nodded and wiped the tears from her cheeks, "Yes, child. He did it to honour all the family he lost and especially for the boy who would have been King."  
  
Jacqueline wondered what France would have been like if Francois had lived. She knew it was a silly thought for nothing could change the past. At least now she knew why King Francis always looked so haunted and why the Queen was so protective of Prince Henry.  
  
  
-------------------  
Chapter Eighteen  
-------------------  
  
Four days had passed since the Comtess's letters had been sent, carried by one of the Chateau's fittest gamekeepers on one of Julien's swiftest horses. If all was well the letters should have reached Hautefort by now.  
  
At that moment, the letters were the last things on Jacqueline's mind.  
  
Jacqueline bit her lip and tried to concentrate on the stitches she was embroidering onto a piece of scrap material. The stitches were not too difficult; it was ignoring what her husband was doing to her neck that was near impossible.  
  
"Owww!" Jacqueline pulled the needle out of her finger. "Now look what you made me do!"  
  
Marc stopped kissing his wife's neck and turned his attention to her injured finger. He was surprised when, moments later, she pulled her hand out of his grip.  
  
"Marc, dearest," Jacqueline looked up at him through her lashes. "What is wrong?" As much as Jacqueline loved Marc, over the last few days he had been smothering her with affection - barely leaving her side and choosing the strangest times to kiss her.  
  
"Can't I show my wife that I love her?" Marc pouted, avoiding the question. He didn't want Jacqueline to work out the underlying reason he wasn't leaving her alone was le Riche's threat on her life. He had no intention of letting the Comte or whomever he might send get anywhere near her. Besides, he certainly was enjoying spending more time with her.  
  
"Yes, of course you can." Jacqueline sighed dramatically. "But, dearest, did you have to show me during breakfast yesterday in front of your family, and in the main room on Thursday when I was planning the menu for the day with Clementine, and while I was playing tables* on Wednesday with your grandmother, and now, in the workroom?" (*now called Backgammon)  
  
The Captain looked around the room. The women who were working on Jacqueline's tapestry saw him watching them. They stopped staring at the couple and began to embroider intently. Apparently, giggling helped them with their stitching.  
  
"No, you are right, dearest. This is not an appropriate place." The Captain got to his feet. "Would you mind showing me to the door?"  
  
The women giggled again. Jacqueline accompanied her husband to the door and watched him open it. Marc stepped through the doorway and turned. He grinned, winked at Jacqueline, then grabbed her by the waist and dragged her through the doorway.  
  
Jacqueline squealed then blushed at the women's bawdy comments and laughter, which followed them out the door. "Mar...!" Her complaints were silenced by her husband's passionate kiss.  
  
"Why is it that every time I see you two you are acting like newlyweds?"  
  
Marc and Jacqueline parted and turned to see Domenic smiling up at them.  
  
"Probably because we are newlyweds." Marc smiled down at his father. "Welcome back, Papa."  
  
Domenic gave his tall son a questioning stare before he turned to Jacqueline. "So, daughter, what have you done to make him talk to me?"  
  
"Nothing, Papa." Jacqueline smiled, shyly. It still felt strange to Jacqueline to have someone she could again call Papa after so many years. Strange and wonderful.  
  
Domenic shrugged and smiled up at Marc. "Well, if you are going to be sociable you may as well come inside and hear all about your new niece."  
  
"Yes, Papa," Marc kept one arm wrapped around Jacqueline, ignored his father's raised eyebrows, and led his wife into the main building of the Chateau.  
  
"Must be something in the food," muttered Domenic cheerfully while he strode along behind the couple.  
  
-------------------  
  
"Are you sure this is for myself and not my wife?" The tall, thin, richly clothed man held a sealed letter in his elegantly manicured fingers and gazed piercingly at the man before him.  
  
"Yes, Monsieur le Comte, sir," the gamekeeper bowed. "I were given instructions to bring both them letters straight to you by Madame le Comtess herself. And I were told to wait for a reply, sir." The man bowed again, nearly scraping the floor with his head.  
  
"Very well." The Comte watched the man's amusing bow and bit back the undignified grin that threatened to spread across his calm features. "Go to the kitchens, the staff will make sure that you receive a decent meal."  
  
Giles de Chantourelle waved away the gamekeeper's thanks. While the man was leaving the room he examined the letters. He tossed the one addressed to his wife onto a nearby table. The second letter he examined carefully. There was nothing written on its cover. The only evidence that it came from his wife's grandmother was the D'Argent seal.  
  
Giles shrugged, elegantly, and broke the seal. The letter fell open. Another sealed letter fell out of it and tumbled onto the tiled floor.  
  
Languidly, Giles perched on the edge of the table and read the open letter.  
  
  
~ 22 November 1510  
  
Dear G,  
France has need of your assistance. Someone has been doing something they should not. It is imperative that the enclosed message reaches Louis-Francis immediately.  
  
Please believe that these are not the ravings of a senile old woman. Time is of the essence. The throne is at stake.  
  
regards,  
  
Monique de Belleme d'Argent  
Comtess ~  
  
  
"What mess has the old sparrow got herself into, I wonder?" murmured Giles. He picked up the letter from the floor and put it in his pocket. A few moments later his wife, Claudette, walked into the room.  
  
"Why is a gamekeeper from the Chateau here, Giles?" Claudette demanded bossily.  
  
"I don't know, Claudie. Maybe because he brought a letter for you." Giles waved towards the letter on his desk. He bit back another mischievous grin as his little wife snatched the letter off the table and ripped it open.  
  
"Well, really!" Claudette said, "What an improper thing to say."  
  
"What is dear?" Giles asked in a bored voice. He was hoping that Claudette would give him the letter to read. Acting bored was almost guaranteed to do it.  
  
"Here," Claudette snapped. "Read what my batty grandmother has written."  
  
Giles gave Claudette a regal stare and took the letter.  
  
"Sorry, didn't mean that," muttered Claudette. She sighed, "I never said anything about Marc's position, Giles, but I know I was right about the dress!"  
  
Giles smiled and began to read.  
  
  
~ 22 November 1510  
  
Dear Claudette,  
  
How dare you say such horrible things about Marc's wedding? To comment on his position in the guard was wicked but to say such terrible things about Jacqueline and her dress was unforgivable.  
  
I am ashamed of you. She is your sister-in-law and is now part of our family. She deserves your support and your loyalty.  
  
And as to theirs being a political marriage. Open your eyes! You are starting to sound as bad as that pompous upstart Le Riche,  
  
Comtess d'Argent. ~  
  
"She did not even say 'kindest regards'," Claudette whined. "Most improper."  
  
"You must have gone too far, Claudie." Giles sighed. "I'm sure she'll forgive you if you write back."  
  
"I'm a Comtess too." Claudette said, haughtily, deliberately ignoring her husband's comment.  
  
Giles smiled again and watched his wife leave the room. He guessed it would be a day at most before she felt like writing to her grandmother. Plenty of time for Giles to see the King and get a reply.  
  
Yet again Giles wondered when Claudette would realise that Monique was so good at manipulating her because they were very much alike except for Claudette's complete lack of forethought. He was mulling over his wife's blindness to her own faults and how cute he still found it, when something else occurred to him. 'Why had the old lady mentioned le Riche?'  
  
A very nasty thought occurred to Giles and sent him into action. He summoned a servant and ordered that his horse be made ready as quickly as possible. Giles rushed upstairs to change his clothes, hoping that his assumption was incorrect.  
  
To be continued 


	10. Chapters 19 and 20

Author's Note - THANK YOU so much for your comments. I appreciate all of them.  
  
Disclaimer - see chapter one  
  
  
Chapter Nineteen  
  
King Francis was tired. The day's Court session had been long and tiresome. Yet again there'd been little progress in the Court's matters. So little had been achieved that the King was sure that someone interfering with the running of his Court. It was obvious to Francis that the former Duc was tightening his web.  
  
The King was not in the mood for a private audience but the need to achieve something and the Comte's persistence had won out.  
  
The Comte de Chantourelle walked into the small anteroom and bowed elegantly to the King. Captain Arnaud, the only other person in the room, watched in silence.  
  
"What do you want?" Francis snapped.  
  
"Your Majesty, I apologise for interrupting your personal time." The Comte smiled calmly, "I was asked to deliver this to you in person." Giles held out the letter. Captain Arnaud took the letter from the Comte.  
  
"Is that all?" Francis could not believe he had altered his schedule for a mere letter. "Why wasn't this done in Court?"  
  
Giles blinked as the King's anger washed over him. He said, calmly and quietly, "Your Majesty, the accompanying letter and the roundabout delivery suggested that it would not be safe to deliver it to Your Majesty at Court."  
  
Francis scowled at the Comte's logical argument. He walked over to a chair in the corner of the room. As the King sat on the chair he waved de Chantourelle towards the only other chair in the room.  
  
The Comte sat and nervously watched the Captain Arnaud hand over the letter.  
  
Francis broke the seal and smiled broadly when he read the few lines. He knew instantly that only one person in the world could have written the letter.  
  
  
~ Dear Louis-Francis,  
  
How are you, my dear Majesty? I hope this letter finds both your Royal self and her Majesty well. It is more years that I care to count since a certain young Duc spent a year here with Michel, Francine and I.  
  
Autumn is quickly moving into winter here at the Chateau. The smells of Winter are everywhere: dried herbs and vegetables in the kitchens; apple tree cuttings and pine logs burning in the fireplace; and, the damp soil after a rain shower. The ground is icy in the mornings, the rain is falling more regularly and the wind is becoming lazy and going straight though me rather than around. ~  
  
The lazy wind. Francis cast his mind back to when he first heard that expression so long ago. It was when his father had sent him to live and train with his friend, Michel the Comte d'Argent. He had spent a whole, glorious year away from the pressures of family, politics and the limited ducal responsibilities his father had forced onto him just before his fourteenth birthday.  
  
His fifteenth birthday had been celebrated at the Chateau. Francis couldn't remember a happier birthday before or since. His parents had visited and the two families had shared two weeks together. In those two weeks, Francis had learned more about his own parents than in the previous fifteen years of his life.  
  
It was so very long ago. The King sighed and banished his memories of his family and friends to the warm corner of his heart where he kept them. He returned his attention to the letter.  
  
~ Louis-Francis, please allow this ancient lady to assist you one more time. My own winter is drawing to a close and the years weigh heavy. I doubt that we shall meet again in this world. I miss our fireside chats, dear boy, and Luc-Henri's letters. Whenever I want to remember you I go to the stables. They still bear the scars of your adventures. ~  
  
Francis winced. Monique was his last link with that time in his life. It would be horrible to lose her even though he hadn't seen her in nearly forty years.  
  
He hoped the tale of his adventures in the stable didn't reach the court. It would be difficult for a King to maintain his dignity if the Courtiers knew he'd once set a stable on fire by frightening a horse into knocking over a lantern.  
  
In hindsight, the competition with the stableboys to see who could streak through the most horse stalls wasn't the best of ideas. Francis could recall every blistering word that the Comte had said to the bedraggled, young Duc he had found shivering in the smoke filled stable-yard. Francis had been clad only in a partially burnt sack and his fragile dignity. The Comte's words had burnt into his soul more harshly than the sparks from the fire had burnt his hair and feet. The words were remarkably like the comments Francis had occasionally used on Henry.  
  
One day soon, Francis decided, he would tell Henry about some of his own boyhood escapades. Once Henry had settled down a bit more. There was no need to encourage too much mayhem. Francis chuckled as another of his boyhood escapades came to mind. He caught sight of the puzzled expression on the Comte de Chantourelle's face and remembered that he was supposed to be behaving in a Royal manner. The King bit back a grin and returned to the letter.  
  
~ Please forgive a senile old lady's mutterings and my unusual way of getting them to you. You know how much I adore intrigue. ~  
  
If Francis remembered correctly Monique d'Argent detested intrigue.  
  
~ Thank you for sending my grandson and his bride home to us. She is a sweet girl. It has been fifteen years since we last saw him. He is only like the boy who left so long ago when he's being mischievous. ~  
  
Francis snorted at the thought of Laurent being a naughty little boy. To Francis, the Captain had always appeared to be mature for his years. Until recently the King had found it hard to believe that there was just over four years between Henry and Laurent. Then Henry had seemed closer to thirteen than twenty-three.  
  
Danielle and a little adversity in Henry's path had changed all that. Francis would not have wished heartbreak on his son but the King knew that Henry was all the better for having experienced it.  
  
~ There are quite a few mischievous people about the countryside presently. Only the other day my grandsons met two such persons: one ex-armourer and a Comte. I believe his name was le Riche or was it Fontaine?  
  
My old mind is slipping. Just as my dear husband's did so long ago at Reims, when he and His Majesty, your dear father, were hunting rodents. ~  
  
Francis sat up straighter in his chair and re-read the last few sentences. Fontaine was a traitor from his father's time. Francis hissed between his teeth. His father had always called traitors rodents. Reims was the home of the former Duc who was now causing so much trouble. And Michel d'Argent's mind had never, ever slipped on anything.  
  
~ I would say more but I dislike the bats and they're so annoying. The rodents even threatened to bite my grandsons and my new grand-daughter. The rodents are quite foolish. My home is secure from their threats. ~  
  
The King sighed. This was bad. If le Riche had turned then France was in danger. Nowhere in Hautefort would be safe from the eavesdroppers, or bats as the Comtess called them.  
  
~ Do you remember, dear, all those years ago when you asked me if you made your father proud? You did. Every letter he ever sent me, except the apology for the stables, were full of you and his pride in you.  
  
I am proud of you dear friend and so very sure that France is proud of you too.  
  
Your friend and loyal subject,  
Monique de Belleme d'Argent  
Comtess d'Argent  
  
P.S. G is trustworthy or I would not have entrusted this to him. ~  
  
The King smiled sadly as he closed the letter. The Comtess d'Argent was one of the few people in the world who believed that the King of France needed a mental hug. She was right, it was exactly what he had needed.  
  
The Comte de Chantourelle stood when the King stood and watched the older man walk slowly towards him.  
  
"How would you like to help me save my Country, my Throne and most importantly my son?"  
  
"It would be an honour, Your Majesty." Giles bowed to the King.  
  
"Good." Francis turned to the Captain. "Arnaud, we have a lot to do and we shall need the Guards that you and Captain Laurent trust the most to help us."  
  
"No one else, Your Majesty?" Arnaud's clipped military voice cut through the quite room.  
  
"It appears that le Riche is no longer working for Us." Francis' voice was hushed.  
  
"I shall see to it immediately, Your Majesty." Arnaud bowed and left the room. If it weren't a breach of military etiquette, Arnaud would have jumped for joy. Le Riche was finally going to get what he deserved.  
  
To be continued  
  
Chapter Twenty  
  
It was the afternoon of the last Sunday of November and the last Sunday before the start of Advent. The family was relaxing in the great hall. The adults were watching the children play quietly, listening to the rain falling outside and contemplating the events of luncheon.  
  
Luncheon had been almost over when the Comtess had made a small speech to remind her family that she believed in the old traditions. Christmas would soon be here and there'd be none of that mere two weeks of Advent rubbish for her family. No, the whole month of December up until Christmas Eve would be a time of contemplation, sacrifice and thanks for everything the family had received during the year.  
  
The family had fallen silent while the Comtess stood and left the table.  
  
Julien stretched in his chair and watched his daughter try to outwit her elder brothers in their miming game. His thoughts wandered back to luncheon. Meanwhile, Stephanie gave up on being subtle and punched Cedric in the arm. Matthew's cry of "Papa, stop Stephanie being naughty" fell on deaf ears.  
  
Julien grinned while he recalled the look of surprise on the Comtess's face when Marc had cornered her after luncheon, "Isn't sacrifice for Lent, Grandmamma?"  
  
"No, Grandson." The Comtess had straightened herself to her entire five feet in height and glared up at the Captain. "Lent is when we sacrifice the pleasure of meat and all luxuries. Advent is when we each sacrifice one luxury that we can do without for a mere twenty-three days. And for your arguments you, Grandson, shall sacrifice two!"  
  
"Two?" Marc had looked down at his grandmother who was tapping the floor with her foot. The Captain had sighed deeply and surrendered to the stronger opponent. "Two it is."  
  
Jacqueline had then started to try and rescue her husband. "Are you sure that's right for Advent?" She said quietly, "I don't recall..."  
  
Julien rudely interrupted her and changed the subject before Grandmamma turned on Jacqueline. Julien knew from long experience that the only thing worse that a contradicted Comtess was an angry Comtess. Julien knew the observances were quite acceptable for Advent but a month was rather excessive.  
  
"Julien! Kindly help me." Marie-Sylvie's command shook Julien out of his daydream. Julien looked at the battling pile of limbs that were his three eldest children and cleared his throat.  
  
"That's enough!" he said in his 'Papa's annoyed' voice. After a moment or two, the boys stopped fighting and stood, sheepishly looking at the floor, walls or anything that wasn't their father. Stephanie, seeing her chance, got in an extra kick to Matthew's calf. Marie-Sylvie made Stephanie apologise before the little girl was quickly and noisily taken away to the nursery by her nanny.  
  
Little Sylvester waved goodbye to his sister from where he sat on his aunt's lap and returned to playing peek-a-boo with his uncle.  
  
"So," Julien said to Marc, when his brother's face next appeared from behind his hands. "Have you decided what two things you are going to give up?"  
  
"Yes," Marc grinned wickedly. "I shall give up cider."  
  
'Not much of a sacrifice when there's plenty of wine in the cellar,' though Julien.  
  
"And shaving." Marc winked at Julien. Sylvester thought the wink was part of the game and blinked at his uncle.  
  
"Shaving?!" Domenic spluttered.  
  
"I've always fancied growing a beard," Marc smiled at his father and brother. "His Majesty prefers that his Guard Officers are clean shaven."  
  
"But you are on leave at the moment," Julien grinned back. 'And Grandmamma hates beards,' he added silently as he winked back at Marc.  
  
Jacqueline was too wrapped up in Sylvester's antics to comment just at that moment but she wasn't at all sure about the idea of a bearded husband.  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
"So that's all we know so far?" Henry threw the letters onto the table. "It's not much."  
  
"It's enough," Francis sat back in his chair. "Le Riche isn't one to leave clues everywhere."  
  
"And Captain Laurent is trustworthy." Henry added.  
  
The Comte de Chantourelle's, "And unimaginative," earned him a glare from four of the other occupants of the room and a wry smile from Captain Arnaud.  
  
"We have to work quickly on this." Francis rolled out a map on the Manor dining table. They had only a small amount of time before someone came to investigate why the Royal Trip to the Manor de Barbarac was taking so long.  
  
"Even if the former Duc manages to pull a third of the Courtiers to his cause," said Francis, "it wouldn't be enough. But with le Riche on his side then every courier and many of the royal servants are possible informers or assassins. We have to find out who his people are, how he is getting word to them and stop him and them."  
  
"You could sooner stop the rain," Henry sighed.  
  
"I can tell you who most of them are," Queen Marie said quietly. All but one person in the room stared at her in surprise. "Well," the Queen smiled, "My court spies are better than his."  
  
King Francis laughed, "I knew there was a reason I married you." A smile spread across his face when Marie replied, "Oh Francis, really," and playfully swatted him with her fan.  
  
"Excuse me."  
  
The merriment ceased as everyone turned to Signore da Vinci.  
  
"One thing puzzles me." Leonardo looked intently into Francis's eyes. "If le Riche believed that Laurent would tell us he was threatened then why would he threaten him? It spoils his whole plan."  
  
"You're presuming two things, Signore," Captain Arnaud said. It was the softest voice than Henry had ever heard the crusty old Captain use.  
  
"What two things?" replied Leonardo, miffed that anyone would question his judgement.  
  
"One that le Riche believes that Laurent is a competent officer who poses any sort of threat." Arnaud smiled coldly, "And two, that le Riche is sane enough to realise that he could be stopped."  
  
"Are you saying that His Majesty's spymaster is mad?" Giles piped up.  
  
"Yes." Arnaud hesitated before saying; "Some time ago he developed a taste for the drugs he uses to extract information. I believe that it has warped his reason."  
  
"That makes him even more dangerous," Henry's voice was pensive.  
  
Arnaud nodded, "True but a good strategist always sees the potential weapons in the enemy camp that he can use to his advantage, Your Royal Highness."  
  
"What potential weapons in their camp?" Henry replied. The Prince watched, mystified, while his father, Leonardo and Arnaud nodded in agreement to some apparently silent conversation.  
  
"Le Pieu." Francis grabbed his son by the shoulder, "We have le Pieu."  
  
To be continued 


	11. Chapters 21 22 and 23

Disclaimer - see chapter one  
  
Tapestry of Echoes  
Chapter Twenty-one  
  
"Must it be this way?" Prince Henry said forlornly.  
  
"She will not like le Pieu being involved," muttered Leonardo, his eyes seemingly afire with righteous anger.  
  
"She shall just have to accept it." King Francis commanded. "It is a small enough price to pay for her future."  
  
"I do wish there was another way, sweetheart." Queen Marie leant forward and patted Henry's hand with her own.  
  
Francis quelled the familiar jealousy he felt bubbling up inside him whenever Marie paid attention to Henry and turned away from his son. "Comte, shall you do as We ask?"  
  
"Yes, Your Majesty." Giles smiled, this intrigue was more entertaining than anything else he had done for quite some time.  
  
"And the rest is up to you," Francis glanced briefly at his son. "And Captain Arnaud."  
  
The Prince nodded absently, his thoughts still on Danielle's likely reactions to the plan. The sound of voices coming from the kitchens signalled the return of Danielle, Louise and Paulette from their tour of the gardens. Mere moments later Danielle appeared in the doorway.  
  
"Are you finished?" Danielle smiled. "Louise and Paulette will have afternoon tea ready soon."  
  
"Come and sit down, dear," Queen Marie replied. "There is something we wish to discuss with you."  
  
The King dismissed the Comte and Captain Arnaud. The officer guided the Princess to his chair before he followed the Comte to the kitchens.  
  
Danielle sat down. There was an atmosphere in the room that made her feel uneasy. The King and Queen both wore their Royal mask-like expressions, Henry was very pensive and Leonardo was quiet. The old artist made her feel even more concerned when he took hold of her hand.  
  
"What is it? What's wrong?" Danielle stared at her family. "Something has happened and you are protecting me." She hesitated, "Henry?"  
  
The Prince cleared his throat. "I shall start at the beginning. Yesterday Father received a letter from Laurent's grandmother."  
  
Danielle cried out, "Something has happened to Jacqueline and Marc?" Danielle would have leapt out of her chair if Leonardo hadn't been holding tightly to her hand. "We must go to them."  
  
"Calm yourself, Danielle," Marie said in a gentle voice. "This is not good for your health."  
  
Francis saw the sheen of tears in his daughter-in-law's eyes. He glared at Henry. "Remind me not to send you on a diplomatic posting," he growled.  
  
Henry ignored him and said, "It's nothing like that, darling. They are safe and well."  
  
"For the moment," added Francis.  
  
"Father, please." Henry glared at Francis.  
  
"Please what?" snapped Francis. Henry continued to glare at his father.  
  
"Will someone please tell me what this is all about?" Danielle's plea was answered by Leonardo.  
  
"Laurent's grandmother sent the King some information." Leonardo ignored the regal glared from the King and Henry and continued, "The Comte le Riche has lost his mind, joined forces with the ex-Duc who was threatening Henry, has threatened Captain Laurent and his family, and is planning to overthrow the King."  
  
"Oh!" Danielle sat still and silent while her mind digested Leonardo's news. Her thoughts were so busy that she didn't even laugh when Queen Marie scolded Francis and Henry for behaving like children.  
  
"Le Riche is a spy-master, is he not?" Danielle asked Leonardo.  
  
"Yes." Leonardo watched Danielle's face as she reasoned her way through the problem.  
  
"Then can't we use his own skills and people to find him and stop him?" Danielle smiled nervously. "Would that work?"  
  
Francis smiled broadly at Danielle. She had seen what needed to be done faster than Henry or de Chantourelle. She would make a worthy Queen of France, although sometimes Francis wondered if Henry would be a worthy King.  
  
"Exactly what we intend to do," Marie's calm voice cut through the atmosphere in the room. "But there is one small problem."  
  
~~~~  
  
"Would you like some tea, Your Highness?"  
  
"No, thank you, Paulette." Danielle rolled over on the old bed and stared at the wall. The room was warmer since Henry had ordered it repaired but it was still the same attic room that she had slept in for ten years. The day she left here Danielle would never have imagined that she would seek comfort here of all places.  
  
"Are you feeling all right, dear?" Paulette sat on the edge of the bed and waited to see if the Princess ordered her to leave. When no order was given Paulette began to stroke her fingers across Danielle's forehead.  
  
"That's nice," Danielle smiled sadly up at the woman who had been the closest thing she'd had to a mother for most of her life.  
  
"Do you want to talk about it?" Paulette was surprised when Danielle sat up and hugged her tightly. Paulette hugged Danielle.  
  
"Thank you," Danielle whispered into Paulette's shoulder. Yet again Paulette wished that she could banish all of Danielle's troubles away. They sat like that until the Prince entered the room.  
  
"Your Highness," said Paulette while she sat back from Danielle and stood. The tone of her voice and the look in her eye added, 'Whatever you've done you better fix it, young man'.  
  
"Thank you, Paulette, that will be all." Henry's words were quietly spoken but heavy with command.  
  
Paulette kissed Danielle's forehead then silently left the room. Henry closed the door behind the servant.  
  
"You did not say anything?"  
  
Danielle stared at him, shocked that he could assume such a thing. Henry instantly realised that he'd made a gigantic error.  
  
He quickly added, "I'm sorry. I know you would never do that." He sat down on the bed. "Danielle, I am so sorry that it has to be this way. If we could think of anything else to do we would do it but there's no time."  
  
"I know you would." Danielle's eyes were brimming with tears when Henry pulled her against him. He held her in a tight embrace. They sat together; quietly talking until Captain Arnaud came to tell them that the King was ready to leave.  
  
It was a calm Prince and Princess who said farewell to the Manor's servants and climbed into the coach. Both of them were ready to face the coming days and the Royal Pardon of Pierre le Pieu.  
  
  
  
Chapter Twenty-Two  
  
Giles stood by the window and watched the gamekeeper and his horse disappear into the streets of Hautefort Town. The horse and rider were only one of many in the street full of Monday morning traffic.  
  
"Safe journey," Giles whispered and turned from the window.  
  
"I still do not understand why you insisted on my having to write to Grandmamma Comtess." Claudette sighed dramatically and toyed with her necklace. "It was most provoking." Claudette pouted at her husband, her eyes sparkling with amusement and challenge.  
  
"Was it now?" Giles strolled languidly towards her. "And why would I bother to make the effort to be provoking?" He raised an eyebrow and stared down at his wife.  
  
"I don't know." Claudette looked up at him. "But when I work out what's goin' on here I'll be sure to give you a piece o' my mind."  
  
"You are becoming quite abbreviated, my dear." Giles smiled and waited.  
  
"And you sir, are," Claudette paused, searching for a witty response. She settled for a rather lame, "too tall for your own good."  
  
"You can do better than that, Claudie," Giles purred.  
  
Claudette flounced towards the door and turned. "Any taller and you shall ruin your hat on the ceiling."  
  
Giles watched as his wife made a dramatic exit from the room. She knew he was up to something. He would have to be careful and probably quite sneaky to keep the truth from her until he was free to speak. Giles grinned; this was going to be fun.  
  
~~~~  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"What is what, Papa?" Marc turned slowly and faced his father. He smiled at the smaller man and put the sword he had been inspecting back in its place on the rack.  
  
"What's making you act like a lovesick fool and why are you talking to me now?" Domenic poked Marc in the stomach with his finger, "And what, son, did I do to deserve the silent treatment in the first place?"  
  
"You did nothing, father," Marc said quietly. "Le Riche's threats have made me a bit... silly around Jacqui. As to the other," Marc shrugged, "I am sorry I behaved so childishly."  
  
Domenic stepped back from his son, surprised by the easy apology. If he'd known it would be this easy he wouldn't have waited three days to speak.  
  
Marc hurriedly added, "While you were away I wrote you a letter to explain. It's in my room." The Captain reached for his coat. "I shall go and..."  
  
"Oh no, you don't." Domenic's words stopped his son in his tracks. "I'd prefer to hear it from you."  
  
"Must I?" Marc turned, his coat forgotten.  
  
Domenic bit back a grin. Marc sounded just like Matthew when he didn't want to do something. "Son, is it that hard to say?"  
  
"Yes, Papa. "Marc sighed, "But only because I've been avoiding it." The Captain wandered to a nearby table and picked up a small dagger. He began playing with the knife, twisting the corded handle between his fingers. 'How in the world', he thought, 'am I going to explain so much?'  
  
~~~  
  
The gamekeeper slowed his horse to a walk and listened. There it was again. He was sure it was the sound of another horse. The gamekeeper nudged his own horse into a trot. There was a bend ahead in the road. The gamekeeper rode towards it. At the last moment he turned his horse and rode into the thin woodland to one side of the road.  
  
He heard the sound of someone cursing and kicked his horse into a canter. The sure-footed animal ducked and weaved between the trees, the gamekeeper clinging tightly to its neck. A few moments later they cantered into open ground and the gamekeeper kicked the horse into a gallop.  
  
Two minutes later, a bedraggled man and a limping horse emerged from the trees. The man was cursing at his horse, the trees, rabbit burrows and the gamekeeper. Suddenly he fell silent and began to worry about how he was going to explain his failure to the Comte le Riche.  
  
  
  
Domenic watched Marc, the older man's naturally impatient nature pushing him to scream "hurry up". He quelled the urge and waited.  
  
Marc watched the light reflecting off the dagger blade. Finally he spoke. "Father, do you remember the day of Mama's funeral. I tried to speak to you..."  
  
"And I said something I have regretted every day since."  
  
Marc saw the pain in his father's eyes and nodded, "I know and we sorted that out long ago." Both men stood silently until Marc quietly said, "I never told you what was on my mind."  
  
"What-," Domenic said croakily. He cleared his throat and continued, "What was it? Your problem."  
  
Marc shrugged, "War, death, fear." Marc glanced at his father then back at the dagger, "When I came to see Mama for the last time I had walked off a battlefield. Some how I felt," Marc paused and put the dagger down on the table, "I felt tainted by it."  
  
"Tainted?"  
  
"It was as though I was bringing something evil here." Marc sighed, "It's part of why I stayed away."  
  
"What are you talking about, son?" Domenic shook his head. None of this was what he'd expected to hear. It didn't make sense. Marc had only been thirteen when his mother died; too young for war. When Marc next spoke his voice was so hushed that his father had to lean forward to hear him.  
  
"While I was watching men kill each other on the battlefield I needed something I could believe in; something that was worth defending. Home became that dream." Marc shrugged, "A fairytale."  
  
"What has that got to do with our fight?"  
  
"Your honesty destroyed my dream." Marc saw the guilty expression on his father's face and smiled. "It needed destroying, Papa. It was a child's dream." The Captain was surprised at how relieved he felt for having spoken to someone about the thoughts that had plagued him for years.  
  
Domenic smiled back, "I remember when you were a boy that you always thought yourself the family defender. Brave Sir Marc out to kill the dragon."  
  
Marc smiled nervously, embarrassed by the memory of the silly boy who had wanted war. Well, he'd certainly got enough of that. How could he explain the changes in himself and his world to a man whose world started and finished with the borders of his lands?  
  
"Not really," Marc was overtaken by the irony of his own words. He sighed guiltily, "Yes, Papa. That's my role in the family. And I blame myself for not being able to save every one of them we've lost."  
  
"That's stupid!" Domenic ignored Marc's look of shock and ploughed on. "Protecting your mother and your brothers and sisters is the Lord's job, not yours."  
  
"My mind knows that but -." Marc shrugged again.  
  
"You're too soft to be a soldier."  
  
Marc turned abruptly and walked away. He was angry at what his father had said and yet part of him agreed with Domenic.  
  
"Marc?" Domenic walked up to his son and place his hand on the taller man's arm.  
  
"Papa," Marc whispered, "Do you know what is the most terrifying thing in the world?"  
  
"Your grandmother at the breakfast table?" Domenic quipped, trying to lighten his son's mood.  
  
"No," Marc stared at his father. Domenic could see the horror and pain in his son's eyes.  
  
"What is it, Marc?" Domenic was beginning to fear the answer.  
  
"Killing someone in the heat of battle and not remembering it." Marc closed his eyes and added, "Except in your nightmares."  
  
Domenic stared at his son in stunned silence. The awkward tension in the room was shattered by the door being pushed open and abruptly slammed.  
  
"Uncle Marc," yelled Cedric as he ran across the room. "You promised to help me with my pony."  
  
Marc smiled, "So I did." He turned to his father, "Would you like to join us, Father?"  
  
Domenic shook himself out of his dark thoughts, "Later. I have a few things to think about."  
  
Marc nodded farewell and followed Cedric towards the door. Domenic watched them leave in silence.  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Twenty-three  
  
"Stop that! You will wear a trench in the floor."  
  
The Captain stopped pacing and glared at owner of the voice.  
  
"And don't you look at me like that, my boy." Domenic commanded from his chair, "You may be too big for me to put you over my knee but you are still my son. And if you wreck the floor of my study I shall find a way to punish you."  
  
The Captain shrugged, "My apologies, Papa." Then, to Domenic's annoyance, he started to pace again, "It's this useless letter. It is full of hints that tell me exactly nothing." He threw the letter onto the table.  
  
"Well, that's Giles for you. He's always been a bit too clever for his own good." Domenic smirked, "So clever he got himself leg-shackled to your shrew of a sister."  
  
Marc's pacing stopped again. "Papa," the Captain's voice was low and stern, "I do not like to hear you speak in that way about your own daughter." He stared Domenic in the eyes. "It's not the behaviour of a gentleman."  
  
Domenic stood up. "I shall forgive you that, this time." He sniffed dramatically and picked up Claudette's letter from the table. He read aloud the end of Giles' cryptic note, which appeared below Claudette's sprawled signature, "Give my regards to all the family and all my prayers for their continued health and wellbeing. I hope Dommie's visit will not inconvenience you, especially not his horseplay, G."  
  
Domenic pondered the letter for a few moments then said, "Giles is losing his mind." He looked up at his son, "Your brother's not going to leave his home at the moment, Yvonne needs him there. Even if he did, how would Giles know about it? And what's this nonsense about horseplay? Is it some sort of joke?"  
  
"Horses would be in Leonardo's jokes, not Giles'." The Captain smiled and said to his puzzled father, "It's a long story." Marc stopped smiling and fell silent.  
  
Domenic watched his son mutter, "No, it couldn't mean...? Could it?" and then charge out of the room.  
  
"Mean what?" Domenic yelled at his son's back. "Marc! What is going on?"  
  
~~~  
  
Jacqueline squeaked with surprise when her husband rushed into the bedroom. Elaine and the maids scuttled out of his way, the clothes that they had been sorting for the Friday wash scattering around them.  
  
"Where is my black chest?" The Captain asked abruptly.  
  
"In the corner, sir," Elaine pointed.  
  
The Captain nodded absently and ordered one of the maids to fetch his manservant. While the maid hurried out the doorway, Marc became aware of the commotion and mess in the room. He blushed, slightly, and said, "I shall be back in a few minutes."  
  
Jacqueline watched her husband march out of the room.  
  
"What was that all about?" asked one of the maids, her words mirroring Jacqueline's thoughts.  
  
"I have no idea." Jacqueline replied before she helped the maids to clean up the mess.  
  
  
  
The next morning, Captain Marc Laurent adjusted his uniform jacket and twitched his cape into place. He examined his newly shaven reflection in the mirror. He'd have to do.  
  
A feeling of unease flowed through him. Although Marc had donned his uniform countless times over the last eleven years he couldn't recall feeling quite like this before; not once.  
  
He walked over to the window and stared out at the fields in the valley. During all his time as a soldier and a Guardsman, Marc had kept his work life separate from his family home. Today, as the different parts of his world were coming together, Marc felt like he was about to step off a cliff. If he closed his eyes he could almost smell the forest below and feel the broken rock beneath his feet.  
  
Captain Chevalier Laurent squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. It was time that he faced his most honest critics, his family. He walked from the room. He was sure that he was losing something today, he hoped that he would gain something greater.  
  
  
  
"Where is he?" The Comtess's voice held the familiar acid tone that marked every breakfast.  
  
"He will be here soon, Grandmamma," Jacqueline said quietly, fighting a smile.  
  
"Well, I shall not wait much longer." The Comtess snapped. "And what is so amusing?"  
  
"Nothing, Grandmamma." Jacqueline bit her lip and stared at her plate.  
  
~~~  
  
Prince Henry and his Guardsmen rode past the houses clustering below the Chateau. Henry smothered a smile and settled for a Royal Raised Eyebrow when the impressive Chateau loomed up over him.  
  
The Eyebrow was his latest expression. Based on his mother's 'I beg your pardon' look, it had taken him a few days to capture. Danielle had giggled every moment she'd seen him practicing it, even after he'd explained he did things like this to make the courtiers believe he was a little foolish. A false opinion was a handy defence to have.  
  
"Very impressive Chateau for a mere Comte," murmured the Prince under his breath. He watched the townsfolk as they hurried bowed to him. Some of them called out apologies for not preparing for his arrival.  
  
'Either Giles de Chantourelle's message hasn't arrived or he's been too mysterious,' thought Henry. He rode towards the drawbridge and grinned. 'Oh ho, catching Captain Laurent unprepared would be fun.'  
  
~~~  
  
Both Julien and Domenic were struck dumb for the second time in a month when Marc strode into the Main Hall.  
  
"Is that your uniform?" Marie-Sylvie sneered, shattering the moment. "It's terribly ornate for breakfast."  
  
Julien burst out laughing at the Captain who was lost for words. Jacqueline began to speak but the Comtess waved her to silence.  
  
"That is not proper, Grand-daughter-in-law," the Comtess glared at Marie-Sylvie. "You shall apologise." She turned and looked up at Marc, "As for you. You shall explain why you are dressed like that and why you have broken your promise not to shave!"  
  
"It seemed appropriate, Grandmamma," Marc replied quietly and sat down beside his wife. Jacqueline ignored breakfast etiquette and kissed his cheek.  
  
Domenic cleared his throat noisily and glared at his family. They sat quietly and waited for Julien to say the morning prayers of thanks. Julien had just begun speaking when there was a commotion in the entryway.  
  
"His Royal Highness Prince Henry," said a voice.  
  
Everyone in the room looked to the door closest to the entryway. Lieutenant Vauvallon was standing there, holding the door open for a very well dressed young man.  
  
"Am I too late for breakfast?" asked Prince Henry as he walked into the room. He looked at Captain Laurent and sighed, "Drat it, Laurent, I thought I'd caught you out."  
  
"Really, Your Royal Highness?" Laurent replied straight-faced. The rest of his family scrambled to their feet, except for Jacqueline who calmly stood up and smiled at Henry.  
  
"Marc Antony Laurent you are in serious trouble," rumbled Domenic.  
  
Julien and Edouard Vauvallon both grinned at the use of Marc's hated middle name while Marc glared at them. The look reminded Jacqueline of their wedding day and Leonardo's comments. She bit back a smile and stared at the floor.  
  
Henry ignored the smirking men and gave the Captain his Royal Raised Eyebrow. The 'what in the world is that' expression on Marc's face almost sent Henry into giggles. The Prince cleared his throat and said, in his best Court Voice, "Won't you introduce Us to your family, Captain Laurent?"  
  
To be continued 


	12. Chapters 24 and 25

Disclaimer - see chapter one  
  
Author's notes. I'm glad that you're all enjoying the story.   
Dragonwind - here's some more for you, I hope you've recovered from reading that much at once. :)  
Lise - thanks for the regular comments, I appreciate it a lot.  
Yeah, Courtz, Aaaaaaaa, Dumbass, Calicat - Thank you, I'm glad that someone else likes my favourite characters from Ever After.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Chapter Twenty-four  
  
Marc Laurent had waited over a decade to show his uniform off to his family and they had barely blinked. He didn't know to laugh or cry. And if he did, would it be at his family or himself?  
  
"I wish Leonardo was here," he murmured. He needed the old man's sage advice.  
  
Henry cleared his throat. Captain Laurent shook himself out of his bemusement and clicked into routine.  
  
"Certainly, Your Royal Highness." The Captain ignored the smirking Julien and Lieutenant Vauvallon. Both would keep for now. He calmly turned to the person next in rank after Henry.  
  
"Your Royal Highness, please allow me to introduce the Comtess D'Argent, my grandmother. Grandmamma, His Royal Highness Prince Henry."  
  
The old lady curtsied low then stood with only a slight wobble. Henry bit back a smile and watched the Comtess walk towards him, her blue eyed gaze scrutinising his face. In return he took stock of her - barely five foot tall, silver hair, straight back, an interesting face that showed traces of the beauty of her youth, and a strong air of command.  
  
"I am pleased to meet you, Madame Comtess." Henry smiled and gave her a tiny bow.  
  
"You, Your Royal Highness, are as cheeky as your father was." The Comtess said gruffly. Marie-Sylvie gasped dramatically at the Comtess's comment, while Jacqueline looked up and smiled demurely.  
  
The Comtess, having hit her target, smiled at the Prince, "And I am pleased to meet you too, Sire."  
  
"Now, Grandmamma Comtess, don't harass the Prince." Domenic stepped forward and shooed his mother-in-law away, "Please forgive my mother-in-law, Your Royal Highness, like many old women she is grumpy before breakfast."  
  
If looks could kill, the speaker, who Henry knew could only be Marc's father, had just been turned to dust by the Comtess. Henry fought the urge to laugh. The urge became even stronger when he saw Jacqueline cover her grin with her hand and the gleam in the eye of the other man, presumably Marc's brother.  
  
"This, Your Royal Highness, is my father Domenic Laurent." The Captain leant forward and said in a low voice, "who should know to wait until he's introduced." Domenic shrugged, the Captain growled and the Prince developed a sudden coughing fit. "Father," said Marc in a quelling tone, "this is His Royal Highness Prince Henry."  
  
Henry controlled his mirth and nodded a greeting to the older man. "I do hope the Captain and his wife have not been causing you much trouble during their visit, Monsieur Laurent." The Prince's face was calm but his eyes were twinkling with amusement.  
  
"Not too much, Your Royal Highness," Domenic said completely straight-faced. "When they're not trysting in my study."  
  
The silence in the room was broken by shocked voices of the Comtess and Marie-Sylvie, both scolding Domenic.  
  
Henry said, "You have to tell me about that some day, Marc."  
  
Marc leant close to him and whispered, "If you tell me all about Danielle and the Royal Library."  
  
"Look what you've done to the Prince, Papa Laurent." Marie-Sylvie's voice cut through the silence, "He's gone bright red with embarrassment."  
  
"Thank you, Captain Laurent," Henry said quickly. He turned to face Julien who was quickly introduced.  
  
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Royal Highness. The Chateau and our family is honoured by your presence."  
  
Henry nodded his thanks. Julien obviously meant every word of the greeting, which was unusual in Henry's world. Julien continued, "May I introduce my wife, Marie-Sylvie Laurent?"  
  
Henry made Marie-Sylvie's day by smiling at her. The Prince recognised an attention seeker a mile off, even if she was married.  
  
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Royal Highness," gushed Marie-Sylvie. The same words that had been so sincere when said by Julien sounded hollow coming from his wife.  
  
"Thank you." Henry said calmly. "Please excuse me, there's something I have to do."  
  
Henry walked over to Jacqueline. "Hello little sister." He grinned down at her.  
  
"Hello, Henry," Jacqueline smiled broadly.  
  
"I have something for you. This," he pulled her into a hug, "is from Danielle." He peeked over his shoulder at Marc then turned back to the blushing Jacqueline. "This is from my parents," he kissed her left cheek. "And this," he kissed her right cheek, "is from me."  
  
"So," Henry let go of Jacqueline and stood beside her, "has the big thug been taking proper care of you?"  
  
Jacqueline smiled, "No, my husband has been looking after me, Henry."  
  
Marc laughed.  
  
"Touche!" Henry laughed. "Now, down to business." He smiled mischeviously, "Any chance of some breakfast?"  
  
~~~~  
  
The entryway felt cold and lonely today. Jacqueline pulled her shawl tightly around her shoulders as the December wind wafted in through the open outer doors. The tapestries moved slightly in the afternoon breeze, years' of dust swirling out of them and onto the floor.  
  
Jacqueline glanced at the space on the wall where her tapestry would be hung. After breakfast and a long discussion with Marc about le Riche, Henry had demanded to see Jacqueline's tapestry. He had orders to report back to the Queen and Leonardo on her design. Jacqueline had shown him the work done so far on the condition that he kept the details to himself. She wanted to keep it a surprise for Domenic, Julien, Marie-Sylvie and the children.  
  
Henry had been intrigued by her design and had commented on the choices she'd made. At first glance the picture was a love heart that covered most of the heavy cloth. When the Prince had looked more closely he'd seen the outline of a second heart. The heart was like the Chateau, one heart within another and between them tiny buttresses that changed the gap between the two hearts into compartments.  
  
Jacqueline showed him her sketch for the finished tapestry and Henry grinned while he told her that it was just like her 'sweet, shy and a little secretive'. Jacqueline was surprised by his words. They were very close to those the Comtess had used when she was helping Jacqueline choose between her tapestry designs.  
  
She sighed and looked out the open door, yet again.  
  
"What are you doing out here?" Domenic's voice broke into Jacqueline's thoughts.  
  
"Thinking, Papa." Jacqueline replied quietly.  
  
"Well, come and do your thinking inside." Domenic closed the outer doors and shepherded her towards the door to the Main Hall. "Standing out here in the cold won't make Marc come back any faster."  
  
"Yes, Papa."  
~~~~  
  
Chapter Twenty Five  
  
"Having half conversations is annoying, Laurent!" Henry followed his words with a petulant, boyish frown. "Why did you make such a promise?"  
  
Laurent guided his horse around yet another pothole in the excuse for a road. "It appeared to be wise at the time, Your Royal Highness."  
  
"Yes, well at least your Grandmother told me what was going on." Henry grinned and shook his head as he recalled the conversation earlier in the day.  
  
Marc could not speak directly to the Prince about le Riche and keep his promise to the spy-master. So, the Captain had told his grandmother everything that had happened when he and Julien had found le Riche and le Pieu. The Prince had eavesdropped on the conversation, which wasn't difficult as they were all in the same room at the time and the Captain was talking rather loudly. When the Captain had finished he had said, "Grandmamma, please repeat that information to the right people."  
  
Henry had nearly collapsed in laughter when the old lady turned to him and with a completely straight face said, "Your Royal Highness, I hereby tell you everything he just told me." Then she looked up at the Captain, "I'm too old to waste time repeating the deeds of villains," before she swanned out of the room.  
  
"My Grandmother is an original." The Captain's voice brought Henry back to the present.  
  
"She certainly is," muttered Henry. After a few minutes the Prince spoke again. "Laurent, what did your Grandmother mean when she said 'she was glad that at least I didn't burn down the stables'?"  
  
'How could she?' Laurent ordered the guardsmen to fall back out of earshot. He cleared his throat and fiddled with Orion's reins.  
  
"Captain, I asked you a question."  
  
Marc sighed and began to tell Henry of the escapades of a certain young Duke named Louis-Francis.  
  
Henry listened silently to the stories of the streaking competition that ending with the burning of the stables, the donkey found in the kitchens and wearing one of the Comtess's hats, and the survey of milkmaids ankles that a certain someone had run in the dairy.  
  
"And he has the nerve to scold me for climbing out a window!" Henry laughed, "Oh Laurent, I can't wait to tell Danielle and Mother." The Prince looked at the silent Captain. "How long have you know of these adventures, Captain?"  
  
"Since I was nine years old, Your Royal Highness."  
  
"What? All those years and you said nothing!" The Prince stared at Laurent, "I thought you were my friend, Laurent."  
  
"I am, Your Royal Highness," Laurent smiled ruefully. "But your father is my King and my employer."  
  
Henry nodded. "You still could have told me."  
  
"You're wiser now, Henry," the Captain shrugged. "I hope you won't hold your father's past against him."  
  
"Hold it against him?" Henry laughed, "Why? I've just discovered that he's human."  
  
~~~~  
  
Jacqueline finished saying her nightly prayers, climbed into the big bed and sighed. The light from the tallow candle on the bedside table shone onto the bed and the unused pillow beside her. Going to bed alone felt so strange that Jacqueline wanted to cry. She took a deep breath and steadied her emotions.  
  
"Oh this is silly," Jacqueline said to the candle. "I slept alone in my room at the manor every night for ten years." She sighed, "And now I'm so upset that I'm talking to a candle."  
  
She slid down under the blankets and began to think of all those years at the manor. She wondered what she would have said before the Masque if someone had told her that in five months time she would be a married lady living with her husband's family in a Chateau in Normandy. And that she couldn't sleep without him by her side.  
  
The romantic girl she was then would have liked the story but she wouldn't have believed it. She'd have said that it was only Marguerite who was entitled to happiness like that.  
  
"And she would have got a good night's sleep," muttered Jacqueline. She blew out the candle and closed the bed-curtains.  
  
~~~~  
  
"Go back to sleep, Danielle. It's not light yet." Henry murmured. He grabbed the hand tapping his shoulder and kissed it.  
  
"It will be light soon, Your Royal Highness."  
  
Henry fought his way out of sleep. Why did Danielle sound like Laurent? The Prince groggily opened his eyes and stared at the hand he was holding and it's amused owner.  
  
"May I have my hand back, Henry?" The Captain fluttered his eyelashes at his friend.  
  
The Prince blushed and let go of the Captain's hand. He wiped his mouth with his other hand and hurriedly climbed to his feet.  
  
"Where am we?" he said, changing the subject. Henry looked at his surroundings. "Ah, yes. The delightful Royal Accommodations of the draughtiest barn in Normandy."  
  
It took all of Marc's training to keep a smile off his face while he watched the Prince. Henry carefully straightened his clothes, elegantly pulled pieces of hay out of his hair, and tried to shake off his sleepiness.  
  
Marc made a mental note not to let Henry near the apple cider again when the Prince staggered and put a hand to his head. Two cups of the wicked brew after dinner and Henry had fallen asleep.  
  
'Maybe I'll keep him away from packhorse all together,' thought Marc, while he grabbed Henry's arm and led him out into the refreshingly cold barnyard.  
  
~~~~  
  
'Finally,' Jacqueline thought. She stretched and sat back in the uncomfortable, wooden chair. Finally she had almost finished her tapestry. Jacqueline had spent most of her evenings since Marc had left in the workroom. Now, after two weeks of work, there was only one small section left to finish.  
  
Jacqueline rubbed her tired eyes with the back of her hand. The tallow candles were burning low and the late night air was becoming colder. She knew that she should got to bed but she was so close to finishing. She couldn't stop now.  
  
She smothered a yawn with her hand and stood. She walked around the room for a few minutes. She took stoked the remains of the fire with the irons, poured herself a cup of apple and mint tea from the pot on the hearth, and fetched two more candles from the wooden chest by the door.  
  
Refreshed and with the new candles' light shining brightly on her work, Jacqueline picked up the needle and woollen thread and began the final section of her tapestry.  
  
~~~~  
  
"All clear, guardsman?"  
  
"Yes, Captain Laurent, sir!" The young guard snapped to attention, the sound of his voice and the clunk of his boots on the stone steps echoed around the garden.  
  
"Thank you, guardsman." The Captain smiled, very slightly. "You do not have to shout. I am standing right here."  
  
"Yes, s-" the guardsman bellowed. He cleared his throat and said quietly, "Yes, sir."  
  
"Be sure to yell nice and loudly if you see anything or anyone, guardsman." The Captain smiled, "Except me, right now."  
  
"Yes, sir!"  
  
Laurent walked away, his mind busy mulling over the events of the last fortnight. At their current rate of success, Henry, the guards and himself could expect to capture the Comte and get back to their families sometime in the next year.  
  
"Certainly not by New Year," muttered Laurent.  
  
"That's what you think," said familiar, clipped voice beside him.  
  
Laurent spun to face Captain Arnaud.  
  
"What the #@*%$! How did you get past the guards?"  
  
"Easily." Arnaud somehow managed to stare up at Laurent and still look down his nose. "I brought my own."  
  
To be continued 


	13. Chapter 26

Disclaimer - see chapter one  
  
Chapter Twenty-Six  
  
"Jacqueline, sleeping at the breakfast table is not polite."  
  
Marie-Sylvie's voice brought Jacqueline out of her doze just in time to stop her slumping into her breakfast plate. She sat up timidly and picked up her cup of mint tea.  
  
"From the look of you, you spent all night working on that tapestry." Domenic grumbled while he attacked his plate of cold meat, boiled eggs and fresh bread. "I've a mind to throw that thing on the waste heap."  
  
"Please don't, Papa Laurent," Jacqueline said in a croaky voice. "It's finished except for the edging."  
  
Domenic shook his head. "Listen to yourself, girl. You spent the night in that workroom. Didn't you!"  
  
Jacqueline nodded and sat still, her gaze fixed on her plate and her cheeks red with embarrassment.  
  
Domenic watched her and grumbled under his breath, the Comtess sighed and sipped her chamomile tea, while Marie-Sylvie clicked her tongue in disapproval. Julien wisely kept out of the conversation and ate his breakfast in silence.  
  
"Finish your breakfast, Jacqueline," said the Comtess quietly. "After that, I expect you to go to your room and rest."  
  
"Yes, Grandmamma D'Argent." Jacqueline whispered croakily.  
  
Ten minutes later she climbed the stairs to her room with Domenic's order to, "Stop doing such darn fool things," echoing in her ears. She wiped at the hot tears that ran down her face and stumbled into the warm room and Elaine's motherly care.  
  
~~~~  
  
"Are you sure this information is trustworthy?" Henry asked for the fifth time in half an hour.  
  
"Positive, Your Royal Highness," replied Arnaud, yet again. His polite smile was starting to fade a little more each time the Prince queried the information.  
  
Captain Laurent bit back a smile. It served the old dog right to have Henry harass him for a change. Arnaud's sneaky entrance into the Manor grounds had annoyed and frustrated Henry to the point that the Prince doubted his own Guards ability to protect him and to catch the Comte Le Riche.  
  
"But if we have to enter the Chateau through the west gate then we'll come up against his garrison and we'll be slaughtered," Henry muttered.  
  
"No, Your Royal Highness, we shall not!" Arnaud pointed at the map of the Chateau.  
  
'Ouch, that's not the way to speak to the heir to the throne,' thought Laurent.  
  
"If we enter this way," Arnaud's voice took on the tone he used when lecturing his youngest and stupidest recruits, "we shall be entering behind his main forces who will be concentrating on protecting the main entrance." The Captain of the Royal Pike Guards was so engrossed in the map and his plans that he didn't see the expression on Henry's face. "That is exactly the kind of thing he would do and why he is so easy to defeat."  
  
"Have you quite finished, Captain Arnaud?" Henry's voice was as cold as the December wind that rattled the shutters on the windows.  
  
Arnaud looked up and paled. He recognised the expression on Henry's face. He'd seen it on the King's face many times. His Royal Highness was Not Pleased.  
  
Laurent sat back and silently watched the fireworks of Henry's temper explode and rain down on Arnaud. He wondered how long it would be until Henry remembered that Arnaud had trained most of the Royal Guardsmen that Laurent had removed from the perimeter watch and why that was significant. Henry had stopped ranting about the stupidity of the plan and was beginning to make personal comments about Captain Arnaud when Laurent finally spoke.  
  
"Your Royal Highness, if we are not to use Captain Arnaud's plan then what shall we do?" Laurent noted the brief look of relief on Arnaud's face before the older man's military mask-like expression snapped back into place.  
  
"I don't know!" Frustrated, Henry threw the map onto the table and himself into a chair. "We can't attack the Chateau's garrison, we don't have the manpower. And I don't want to start a siege."  
  
"Yes, a siege is definitely not advisable," Laurent said quietly. Memories of the town he'd relieved from a siege came to mind and Laurent brushed them aside. Now was not the time for images from his nightmares.  
  
"What do you suggest?" Henry asked Laurent.  
  
"Send a messenger to him." Laurent replied. He sat back and waited.  
  
"Are you insane or a fool? What good would a messenger do?" Arnaud snapped at Laurent. It was exactly what Laurent had expected Arnaud to say.  
  
Laurent looked at Henry. The Prince was deep in thought and coming up with a solution, just as Laurent had known he would. Which was good because Laurent didn't have a plan, only an idea or two.  
  
"You are suggesting that we tell him that we know where he is and that it is best if he comes out to parlay with us?" Henry picked up the map of the Chateau occupied by the former-Duc and his men and looked at it again. "That might work, if we worded the letter in the right way and offered him the right incentive."  
  
"What incentive?" Arnaud demanded.  
  
"What he wants, of course," replied Henry. "Me."  
  
"You cannot, Your Royal Highness." Captain Arnaud stood up and leant over Henry just as he had done when the Prince was a boy. "I forbid it!"  
  
This time Laurent didn't save Arnaud from Henry's wrath. If anyone needed a good rant at the moment it was the Prince. It would do both him and Arnaud the world of good. Laurent busied himself with keeping watch on both the Prince and the door, while he turned over Henry's idea in his mind.  
  
~~~~  
  
Jacqueline awoke in the gloom of early evening.  
  
"About time."  
  
Jacqueline's eyes gradually focussed on the Comtess, who was sitting by the warm wall. Or at least that was what Marc called it. The warm wall was really a chimney for one of the fireplaces in the main hall below.  
  
"I am sorry, Grandmamma." Jacqueline smothered a yawn with her hand. "The day is almost gone?"  
  
"It went." The Comtess signalled to her maid, who quietly left the room. "You slept all of yesterday and most of today."  
  
"Oh." Jacqueline couldn't think of anything else to say and, as usual, became engrossed in her hands.  
  
"How do you feel, child?" The Comtess broke the silence.  
  
"Rather tired," Jacqueline blushed. It was a silly thing to admit after sleeping for nearly two days.  
  
"I'm not surprised. You had a mild fever all of yesterday and through the night."  
  
"I hope I did not alarm you." Jacqueline looked through her eyelashes at the old lady.  
  
"Of course you alarmed me. Don't do it again." Monique stood up and walked towards the bed, "And don't use that cute look on me, it only works on men." The old lady chuckled when Jacqueline blushed even more. "And don't tell me you don't use it. I know you've got my grandson and his father wrapped around your little finger."  
  
"Grandmamma!" Jacqueline sat up in shock. She didn't! Did she?  
  
"Good. Stay sitting up, some food is on its way for you," the old lady said, commandingly. "I expect you to be completely better the day after tomorrow. We have a tapestry to hang." The Comtess turned to leave.  
  
"Grandmamma?" Jacqueline said quietly.  
  
"Yes, dear," the Comtess stopped walking and looked back at her.  
  
"You will not make me eat vegetable soup? Will you?" Jacqueline gave the Comtess her most innocent look and fluttered her eyelashes like Marie-Sylvie did when she wanted to get Julien's attention.  
  
"No, minx, I won't." Monique laughed, "You are getting to be as cheeky as Domenic." She winked and left the room, her laughter echoing down the narrow corridor.  
  
Jacqueline giggled at the idea she'd ever be that cheeky and snuggled under the blankets to wait for the food to arrive.  
  
~~~~  
  
Henry ducked and parried his attacker's sword with his own. The clang of metal on metal was lost in the noise of the fight. Henry stumbled backwards when the mercenary attacking him swung an axe at him.  
  
'Well,' thought Henry, as he fell over the body of the former-Duc and landed awkwardly on the ground, 'at least he won't be a problem any more.'  
  
The Prince parried the sword attack again and wished that the Duc's mercenaries had not separated him from his guards. He tried to kick the man's legs out from under him but only succeeded in getting his feet caught up in the former-Duc's cloak. Henry shouted for assistance while the man above him raised his axe.  
  
A figure dressed in Captain's gold burst through the wall formed by the mercenaries, another figure was close behind. Henry was busy watching axe. He watched the axe suddenly change course and saw someone else take the blow meant for him. The man fell across Henry, pinning him to the ground.  
  
"That wasn't how..." the man said and fell silent.  
  
Henry watched helplessly while Lieutenant Vauvallon overpowered the mercenary leader. Minutes later the other mercenaries fled.  
  
The Lieutenant stepped to Henry's side. "Are you injured, Your Royal Highness?"  
  
Henry shook his head. Vauvallon lifted the body off Henry's legs and helped the Prince to his feet.  
  
"They've fled, Your Highness." Captain Arnaud ran up to the Prince. "Do you wish us to follow them?"  
  
"No," Henry said hoarsely. His gaze was fixed on the man who had died for him. Why him? Why now? It wasn't fair.  
  
To be continued 


	14. Chapter 27

Disclaimer - see chapter one  
  
Chapter Twenty-Seven  
  
"Idiots!" Captain Comte le Riche snarled from his vantage point atop a steep cliff. Through his spyglass he watched the mercenaries flee from the Royal Guards.  
  
"Fight you cowards," he growled at the distant, departing men. "What? Did we pay them to run away?" The Comte received no reply from the few men standing behind him. They were too afraid, wise or bored to comment.  
  
The Comte scanned the battlefield. He swore when he saw Henry in one piece but the sight of the dead guardsmen brought a wry smile to his face. In his macabre searching le Riche caught a glimpse of a Captain's uniform amongst those of the dead.  
  
"Well," he cackled, "every cloud has a silver lining."  
  
~~~~  
  
Earlier that same day, Jacqueline had watched the housekeeper supervise two of the Chateau's men while they hung Jacqueline's tapestry. The morning light was crisp and clear, like the morning air that filled the entryway. Jacqueline waited until the men had finished their work before she checked that the tapestry was straight. Then she quietly thanked servants.  
  
Jacqueline stepped back and looked at the tapestry. While she had been ill, the women who had worked on the tapestry with her had finished the edging. They had also sewn on the broad loops of cloth that hung over the rail that was firmly bolted to the stone wall.  
  
"It's lovely, milady," Clementine said before she left to check on the upstairs maids.  
  
Jacqueline accepted the compliment even though she wasn't quite sure if the tapestry was good enough. 'Oh well, it will do as a wall rug,' she thought.  
  
"Are you ashamed of your work?"  
  
Jacqueline looked down at the Comtess, who had silently appeared beside her and seemed, yet again, to know her thoughts.  
  
"No, Grandmamma. But..."  
  
"But what?"  
  
"But it was easy to do," Jacqueline nibbled at her lip. "I must have done something wrong."  
  
"No, you did everything right." The old lady smiled, "that's the secret, my dear. In hindsight, just about everything is easy. You simply need the courage to begin it, the strength to stick to your task, and to love what you are doing. And the faith to believe that you can do it, of course."  
  
"Oh." Jacqueline thought for a moment then said, "We are not discussing tapestries any more, are we Grandmamma."  
  
"Marc chose well." Monique patted Jacqueline's hand with her own. "There is nothing else I must teach you, dear."  
  
The sounds of footsteps and voices heralded the arrival Domenic, Julien and his family. The Comtess sighed at the noise and glared at Cedric, who immediately stopped yelling and stood quietly beside his calmer elder brother.  
  
"Come here everyone," commanded the Comtess. "Jacqueline is going to explain her tapestry to us."  
  
Jacqueline smiled shyly at her extended family as they moved closer to her and looked up at the tapestry. If only Marc was here too, then her day would be complete.  
  
~~~~  
  
The sentry acknowledged Captain Arnaud as he checked the Manor's perimeter defences. All was quiet - which Arnaud found unnerving considering the events of the day so far.  
  
Arnaud marched back into the Manor and, after a brief search, found the Prince in the dining room. Arnaud bowed to the Prince and nodded a greeting to the Manor's worried owners, who quietly left the room.  
  
"All is correct, Your Royal Highness."  
  
Henry acknowledged the Captain's words and dismissed him. He watched Arnaud leave in his formal, unimaginative style. 'Oh Marc, I miss your counsel.' The Prince sat back in his chair and rubbed his tired eyes. 'How in the world am I going to explain this mess to Father? To Danielle? To everyone?'  
  
It was a long time before Henry returned to examining the map.  
  
~~~~  
  
Jacqueline's tapestry appeared to be different in the late afternoon light. Julien, who had snuck past Marie-Sylvie for another look in the entryway, examined the tapestry's design and tried to work out what was nagging at his mind.  
  
The main pieces were still the same; a large love heart with a small heart inside it and the two of them joined by tiny buttress-like bars to make a series of boxes around the heart.  
  
Each box still had it's own picture: one had a crown; another a ladies shoe; one (which Jacqueline had blushed at and said she'd explain later) had what looked like a horse-head and a carrot; yet another was of a paintbrush, a tiny horse and butterfly. There were twelve boxes in all and they had not changed since this morning.  
  
Julien recalled his wife's words earlier in the day, "A dozen. Does one need so many?" He chose not to recall his Papa's reply nor Domenic's comment that it was a pity that Marc wasn't there to see the tapestry hung. Thinking it over wouldn't change what was said. Instead Julien continued his examination of the tapestry.  
  
Perhaps it was the centre picture that looked different. Jacqueline hadn't explained it. There'd been no need for her to do so. In the centre of the smaller heart were two hands, one large hand clad in a black glove and one smaller pale hand. The hands were clasping the hilt of a sword. Below the hands was the sword blade - it bore the mark of King Francis' guard and reached almost to the bottom of the smaller heart. Above the hands the sword became a lit candle that was so tall that it's flame was almost touching the V at the top of the heart. A chain was wrapped around the sword hilt and the bottom of the candle. From the chain hung a simple cross that rested over and beneath the hands.  
  
The picture was stitched simply which made it all the more powerful.  
  
Julien sighed and wished that Marie-Sylvie were a bit more romantic. Their arranged marriage had been successful but certainly not anywhere near sweet as Marc and Jacqueline's. Nor Domenic and Yvonne's either.  
  
With a muttered, "Stop it," Julien shook himself out of his daydream and returned to the matter at hand.  
  
No, it wasn't the central picture that looked different. Julien walked backwards and stared at the tapestry, as he did so the afternoon light caught the cloth edging and Julien picked out the shimmer in the material. It was probably a fault from wear in the cloth but at this angle it looked like the cloth had a dull sparkle.  
  
That was it. It must be the cloth - for it could have nothing to do with the unshed tears that Julien would swear were not in his eyes.  
  
"Like dew on the grass," murmured Julien. Moments later he left the room, happy that he'd solved the mystery and proud of what his shy sister-in-law had created.  
  
In the entryway the light from the setting sun disappeared when the drawbridge was raised for the night. Jacqueline's tapestry hung in its place, protecting the stone wall and adding it's own little bit of warmth to the Chateau.  
  
To be continued 


	15. Chapters 28 and 29

Disclaimer - see chapter one  
  
Chapter Twenty-Eight  
  
Christmas Day dawned cold and clear.  
  
In the Chateau D'Argent, the old traditions were maintained. This was a Holy Day and was for prayer, family and feasting; though not necessarily in that order, if one believed Domenic and the blacksmith. As was the tradition, the servants and their families joined the Comtess and the Laurent family for breakfast in the main hall. The villagers and their families would join in the evening celebration.  
  
Jacqueline sighed and took a deep breath before she walked into the large room. Not wanting to face Christmas without Marc, she had hid in her room since the family had returned from the midnight Mass. She would still be there if Grandmamma D'Argent had not sent Marie-Sylvie to fetch her. For some reason Jacqueline hadn't wanted to argue with her sister-in-law.  
  
The noise of the celebration washed over Jacqueline and the children's laughter eased her sadness. She even began to smile at their antics as they fought for the attention of the adults in the room.  
  
"Today is a day for joy." Domenic said quietly. He hugged Jacqueline then handed her a letter. "Perhaps this will help." Domenic bit back a smile while he watched Jacqueline tear open the letter.  
  
  
~ Sweeting,  
  
Merry Christmas.  
  
If you have received this then I must still be with Henry. I suspected our hunt might take some time but I hoped it would not be this long.  
  
Light a candle on my behalf at the prayers today and wish my family all the blessings of the season. I hope to be home for the present giving on New Year's Day. If I am delayed I have left a list of who receives what in my letterbox.  
  
Forgive me for missing our first Christmas. I am with you in my heart,  
  
Marc~  
  
  
Jacqueline smiled. Julien was right, Marc was a big softie. And she loved him for it.  
  
She folded the letter and tucked it up her sleeve. Then she squared her shoulders and joined in the celebrations.  
  
~~~  
  
Another bride was also having a sad time at Christmas. Princess Danielle had almost everything she could want for Christmas - food, gifts, entertainment and friends and family. The only thing that was missing was her husband.  
  
She knew exactly where he was for he'd sent word by a guardsman. Danielle knew that Henry and his guards had won a battle and captured the troublemakers. She knew that they had stopped at the Chateau ______ and would be home in three days. She knew that Henry was safe. She also knew that she wanted him with her - now.  
  
Danielle blinked the tears from her eyes and tried to concentrate on the Bishop's words as he performed the Mass. She felt very guilty about wanting Henry by her side when she had so much but even now it was all she could think of.  
  
King Francis gave his daughter-in-law a chiding look. Princesses were not supposed to be watering-pots. He'd told her as much at least three times over the last week.  
  
Danielle saw the look. Now the King was angry with her. She tried to focus her attention on the Bishop and on not crying. The more she thought about not crying the more she felt like crying.  
  
Marie nudged Francis' foot with hers and Francis looked back at the Bishop. She'd told Francis at least four times that the child was effecting Danielle's emotions and to give her time, maybe even free Danielle of some of her duties until she recovered. Marie heard a quiet sob from her daughter-in-law and wished that Francis had listened to her. There was still at least an hour of the Mass left and neither Francis nor the Bishop would think of excusing Danielle from it.  
  
Marie turned slightly and looked at Danielle, who stood behind her and slightly to one side. Marie sighed quietly; she couldn't help the girl. One day she would be a Queen and she would just have to learn to cope.  
  
Leonardo watched the scene before him and tried to think of an excuse for going to Danielle's aid. The King caught his gaze and gave Leonardo a 'I forbid it' look. The elderly artist tried to focus on the Mass and harden his heart to the sad little figure on the Royal Dais. He didn't succeed.  
  
~~~  
  
The tired horse stumbled into the stable-yard. The chief groom of the Chateau D'Argent took one look at the horse and started to tell off the rider.  
  
Captain Laurent dismounted and handed Orion's reins to the groom.  
  
"I know. I don't deserve him." The Captain patted the horse's neck. "Take good care of him." He said to the groom. The groom grumbled about reckless fools and led the tired horse into the stable.  
  
The Captain had almost reached the main part of the Chateau when his father intercepted him.  
  
"You missed Christmas!" Domenic stood with his hands on his hips. "Not a wise thing to do. You know your grandmother will be after you. Though it looks like you've given up shaving."  
  
Marc smiled tiredly, "I'm glad to see you too, Papa."  
  
Domenic laughed. "Jacqueline's in the main hall."  
  
  
  
Marc watched silently from the doorway. Jacqueline was arranging a centrepiece of ivy and winter vegetables on one of the long tables set up in the room. She adding the finishing touches when a turnip rolled over and started all the vegetables rolling across the table.  
  
"Oh drat!" Jacqueline threw a piece of ivy onto the table. She took a deep breath then began to pick up the vegetables. She was reaching for a parsnip that had rolled towards the door when someone else picked it up.  
  
Marc was almost knocked over when Jacqueline ran to him and threw herself into his arms. She hugged him tightly.  
  
"You're back!" Jacqueline kissed her husband and spluttered. If Marc hadn't had his hands full he would have bent over double at the expression on her face.  
  
"What day is it?" Marc asked, straight-faced.  
  
"Friday." Jacqueline bit her lip. "Ummm, Marc, dearest. You know I love you but..."  
  
The Captain chuckled, "Before you ask, I haven't bathed in two weeks. Nor have I changed my clothes or shaved since then."  
  
"Oh," Jacqueline said weakly. She stepped back from her husband and smiled. "I am so happy that you're back. What happened? Did you find the Duc?"  
  
Clementine quietly entered the room. "Fresh clothes are waiting for you in the washroom, Captain."  
  
"Thank you." Marc kissed Jacqueline's hand. "I'll tell you all about it when I don't smell like a waste heap."  
  
"I didn't say you did," Jacqueline blurted.  
  
Marc winked, "You didn't have to, sweeting."  
  
~~~  
  
Chapter Twenty-Nine  
  
Marc sat in the big chair and stretched languidly, like a contented cat. He bit back a smile when he heard the sigh from nearby and thought, 'make that a contented cat with an impatient audience'.  
  
Jacqueline sat opposite her husband. She had waited while he had bathed and dressed, while he'd chatted with Julien and Marie-Sylvie about Christmas and his Grandmamma about New Year, while he'd eaten his luncheon and drunk two pots of ale, and still he hadn't told he what had happened.  
  
Marc peeked at his wife. He wasn't going to say a word until she spoke. 'After all,' he thought mischievously, 'how would I know what she wants to ask? She's old enough and smart enough to ask her own questions.'  
  
Eventually Jacqueline said, "Did you catch the Duc?"  
  
Marc grinned, "Henry skewered him."  
  
"Pardon?"  
  
Marc cleared his throat when he realised what he'd said. "Uh, yes, dearest, we found the ex-Duc. Captain Arnaud tracked him down with the help of Her Majesty."  
  
"The Queen was there?" Jacqueline couldn't believe that Queen Marie would be involved in hunting people.  
  
"No, she helped from Court." Marc sat up and focussed his tired brain on the conversation. It wouldn't do for him to tell Jacqueline too many details about the events surrounding the ex-Duc. There were some details of the battle and war that he wanted to protect her from forever.  
  
"What happened, Marc?"  
  
The Captain shrugged, "We tracked him down. Henry sent him a message and arranged a meeting with him. And the old devil turned up with a bunch of mercenaries."  
  
"Mercenaries?" Jacqueline gasped. "Were they horrible? Lieutenant Vauvallon told me that mercenaries are the worst sort of enemy. That they fight without any care for chivalry or the rules of war."  
  
"Did he now?" Marc growled. He made a mental note to have a long talk with Edouard Vauvallon when he next saw him. "I'm not sure how bad they were. I wasn't fighting them." Marc took hold of his wife's hand and squeezed it. "We did lose some guards, though."  
  
"Oh." Jacqueline closed her eyes at the horrible thought that it could have been Marc who had died. Then she was struck by the thought that she was horrible for being so glad that others had died.  
  
Marc watched his wife's face mirror her emotions.  
  
"They died doing their duty, dearest." Marc smiled reassuringly.  
  
Jacqueline felt even worse. She took a deep breath and said, "Where were you?"  
  
"Hunting down le Riche. That took a couple of days because," Marc blushed, "he kept getting away from me and my men."  
  
"But you caught him?"  
  
"Yes." Marc saw the proud expression on Jacqueline's face and felt that every moment of the last weeks was worth it. Well, now was as good a time as any, "Something strange happened that shook Henry."  
  
"Strange? How?" Jacqueline reacted to Marc's insistent tug on her hand and moved to sit on his lap, her legs crooked over the left arm of the chair. Marc began stroking her hair with his right hand.  
  
"When the battle with the mercenaries started, Henry was separated from the Royal Guard." Marc winced as he recalled the feelings of helplessness that had coursed through him as he'd watched the battle. Henry had left Laurent and five Royal Guards in the forest to lay in wait for the Comte to make his presence known. They hadn't had long to wait. Marc and his men had been working their way towards the cliff that the Comte occupied when the battle had begun.  
  
"Henry had defeated the ex-Duc, the old fool was no match for him and died quickly." Marc blushed when Jacqueline gasped and he remembered whom he was speaking to. He murmured, "Sorry sweeting," before he added, "Then a mercenary attacked Henry. He held his own for a while but the man was a full head taller than Henry and armed with a sword and an axe."  
  
"Was Prince Henry hurt?"  
  
"A few scratches and bruises but otherwise he's fine." Marc chuckled, "Though he's going to have some explaining to do to the King."  
  
"Why?" Jacqueline was confused. "Did he lose the battle?"  
  
"Henry won the battle." Marc moved his hand from her hair to her back. "It's tradition that when someone dies for a member of the Royal Family they are heralded as a hero." Marc said quietly. "While Prince Henry was fighting the mercenary, Vauvallon was trying to catch someone, dressed in the Comte le Riche's uniform, who had got into the Guards' ranks. They ran into Henry's fight and the false Guard got in the way. He was killed by a blow meant for Henry."  
  
"But why is that bad?" Jacqueline was trying to concentrate on the conversation and not on her husband, who was busy kissing her neck.  
  
Marc chuckled and whispered in his wife's ear. "I am glad that I'm not there to see His Majesty's reaction."  
  
~~~  
  
"I beg your pardon?" King Francis roared at his son, pronouncing each syllable like a whip-crack. "Did I mishear you?"  
  
"No, father, you did not." Prince Henry stepped back, out of his father's reach. Danielle, seeing her husband under attack, ran to Henry's side. Henry had been shocked by the change in his wife when he'd returned home. Even now she was shaking, obviously upset by Francis' anger.  
  
The King was about to speak again when he heard a sound. Queen Marie was giggling. Soon Leonardo and Captain Arnaud joined suit.  
  
"Oh, Francis," gasped Marie between giggles, "You must admit that it is terribly ironic."  
  
Francis began to smile. "Heavens, boy, how in the world am I supposed to face the Court and say the words 'Pierre le Pieu Royal Hero' with a straight face?"  
  
Henry shrugged, "Very carefully?"  
  
King Francis snorted then began to giggle. Within moments he was roaring with laughter.  
  
Danielle hugged Henry. She was glad that he was safe and that le Pieu was no longer a threat but she could not laugh at the irony of it. She just wanted to feel safe and loved, and for that she needed Henry.  
  
Henry found that he couldn't laugh. Regardless of le Pieu's behaviour, the man's death was not cause for amusement. He held Danielle close and felt her relax. Henry had the perfect cure for Danielle's nerves. There were some tales of a certain young Duc's adventures that Henry was sure would do Danielle the world of good.  
  
~~~  
  
Jacqueline had never experienced anything quite like a Normandy New Year's Eve before. A bonfire was set in one of the wintering fields to welcome in the New Year and banish bad luck. The Comtess explained to her that the tradition dated back to the times of their Viking ancestors who had come to Normandy over six hundred years before.  
  
A feast was set up in the village and everyone attended it. Even the gamekeepers took turns to leave their posts and join in. There was dancing, singing and storytelling. Some of the stories were fairytales, others were bible stories, and some were tales of wars in distant lands that made Jacqueline shudder. With a soldier for a husband, the last thing she wanted to think of was war.  
  
At midnight, the Priest held a short Mass by the roaring bonfire to welcome in the New Year and bless the people and the lands for the year to come. Some of the villages threw tokens, straw animals, straw vegetables and tiny wooden saints into the fire. The Priest did not like some of the more pagan traditions of his flock but wisely said nothing. He'd make his opinion known another day.  
  
After the Mass, most of the people returned to their homes. A group of men stayed to spend the night drinking cider and telling tall tales by the fire.  
  
To be continued  
  
Author's note - thanks again for your comments.   
I got the details of a late-Rennaisance Christmas from an old schoolbook from the 1800's. My apologies if it's totally wrong. 


	16. Chapter 30 and 31

Disclaimer - See chapter one  
  
Chapter Thirty  
  
Jacqueline awoke mid-morning. She and Marc hurried to dress to be ready for the New Year's tradition of gift giving. Marc and Jacqueline had gifts for their family and their own servants. The Comtess and Marie-Sylvie had arranged gifts for everyone in the Chateau and the village.  
  
Marc and Jacqueline arrived downstairs just in time for the main gift giving. In family groups, the people of the Chateau and the village came into the Main Hall where the Comtess and Julien presented them with their gifts. For each man there was a new shirt, for each married woman new headscarf, for each unmarried woman two ribbons, and for every child a length of cloth to be made into new clothes.  
  
In return the villagers and the servants gave the family small things they had made or grown - including woollen scarves, small toys for the children, and vegetables from their gardens.  
  
Jacqueline was surprised when one after another the women who had worked with her on the tapestry gave her gifts. By the time the main gift giving was over Jacqueline had been given: three gifts of eggs; fresh vegetables; a small pouch for her tapestry needles; a lucky horseshoe, from the Blacksmith's wife; and a baby's blanket. She'd accepted the last with a stammered thank you and a blush, causing the older woman who had given it to her to laugh and tell her that she may need it some day.  
  
Marc was equally surprised to receive his own gifts from the gamekeepers he had trained. Most of his gifts were carved from wood or brewed from old apples. From the intense smell he was fairly sure that the home brew was too strong for him to drink. Still, it would do a good job of cleaning the tarnish off his sword and saddle irons. He thanked the men for their kindness.  
  
After a brief chat with his grandmother, Marc gave each of the men and the women a coin, apologising that he and Jacqueline did not have more personal gifts to give. Jacqueline hid her smile behind her hand when one after another each person reacted as though all their New Years had come at once.  
  
~~~~  
  
"Must you spoil people like that," complained Domenic, later over luncheon.  
  
Marc apologised to his father even though he did not regret his own generosity.  
  
Jacqueline smothered a smile and ate her food. If Papa thought a few coins were generous he was in for a big surprise. Marc had fifteen years of New Years celebrations to catch up on and the gifts he had bought his family reflected that.  
  
Half an hour later the family members were exchanging their gifts.  
  
Jacqueline watched Marc fight back tears when he opened the gift from his grandmother. It was his grandfather's sword, journal and spurs. The old lady squeaked when her big grandson charged over to her and grabbed her up in a crushing bear-hug.  
  
"Don't break your grandmother, Marc," Domenic commanded through his laughter. The Captain gently put his grandmother down and quietly returned to his seat.  
  
Jacqueline was speechless when she opened her gift from the old lady. It was a heavy silver chain with a jewelled cross on it. She walked over to the Comtess, "Grandmamma, this is too much. I cannot..."  
  
"Hush child. I was leaving it to you in my will. The same as Marc's gift," the Comtess said quietly, "But it seemed better to give them to you now, when I can be here to enjoy the giving."  
  
Jacqueline nodded her understanding and kissed the old lady's cheek, before she returned to her seat.  
  
Domenic, Julien and Marie-Sylvie had given Marc and Jacqueline a combined gift of a pair of beautifully crafted candlesticks. Domenic laughed when the gift was opened, "And no getting colds by using them late at night!"  
  
Marc was obviously puzzled by the comment and guessed from Jacqueline's blush that he had some news to catch up on.  
  
Marc and Jacqueline gave the children their gifts first - a hoop and stick each for Matthew and Cedric, a doll for Stephanie (which Jacqueline had chosen because it reminded her of Tilde, her own doll), and a ball for Sylvester.  
  
The older boys ran away to play. Stephanie sat quietly for the first time in days and played with her doll, and Sylvester became bored with his toy in a few minutes and climbed onto his father's lap.  
  
Once the children had settled down, Marc began distributing the other gifts.  
  
Julien was embarrassed and pleased with his gift of a map of the region, drawn by the King's own mapmaker, while Marie-Sylvie was impressed by her gift, a delicate fan.  
  
Domenic's gift was a group portrait of all the Laurent's who had been at Marc and Jacqueline's wedding and their spouses. Gustave had done a good very job of the ink drawing, it's simple frame crafted by the man who had framed Danielle's portrait.  
  
"And you thought your grandfather's old things were too much, Marc?" Domenic said in a quiet voice. He looked at the faces of Claudette, Adrienne, Marc, their spouses - Giles, Richard and, of course, Jacqueline - and Claudette and Giles' children. "Nice to have you visit your father," he nagged the picture, before he thanked Marc and Jacqueline with a hug each.  
  
Marc's last gift was for the Comtess. He picked it up and sat beside the old lady. "Grandmamma," he said quietly, "I have always wondered what I could give you that was special. When I told His Majesty that I wanted to come here he made a suggestion for a New Years gift for you. Many years ago there were a number of paintings done by the King's mother. His Majesty would not part with any of them but he allowed Gustave Manon, who did the picture for Papa, to copy one of them for you."  
  
The old lady sat silent while Marc removed the oilskin and linen wrappings from a small painting. The other people in the room could see that it was framed in the same way as Domenic's picture but not even Jacqueline knew who or what was in the picture.  
  
Monique stared through tear-filled eyes at the painting of herself, her husband and her daughter as they were nearly forty years ago. Michel and Francine smiled at her and, in their portraits she saw the familiar features she saw everyday on the faces of her grandchildren and great-grandchildren.  
  
Her family crowded around to see the painting. Domenic smiled sadly at the portrait of his late wife and was struck again by how much he missed her even after fifteen years. Julien thought for a moment that the women in the painting were his mother and his dead sister Monique when she was fourteen and noticed that his grandfather must have been about Domenic's age when the original was done. Marie-Sylvie thought the clothing was abominable and the hairstyles atrociously old-fashioned. And Jacqueline thought that, aside being tall and having sandy hair, Marc looked nothing like his grandfather at all..  
  
The Comtess wiped her eyes, sniffed loudly and said, "That darn Louis-Francis always could make me cry."  
  
Marc took that to mean that she liked the picture.  
  
~~~~  
  
After the New Year's celebrations were over, life in the Chateau D'Argent settled down to a peaceful winter routine. Domenic and Julien spent their days supervising the maintenance work that could only be done when the fields were empty and the trees bare of leaves.  
  
Some days Marc joined them, others he spent training in the armoury or keeping Orion fit and trained. The coldest days Marc and Jacqueline spent in the Main Hall, playing board games by the fire, or in their room, warmed by the chimney from the Main Hall.  
  
The hunt for the Comte and his cronies had wakened Marc to the rare opportunity both he and Jacqueline had. He was free of the responsibilities of Court and military duty. Their family may expect some things be done but their meals, their evenings and their nights were their own every day.  
  
The couple often talked long into the night about their lives and their dreams for the future. Jacqueline discovered a lot about her husband's past and, although he didn't tell her many details, she began to understand that he had hidden scars. Sometimes he would be talking and he'd mention a name or a place only to suddenly fall silent. A few moments later he'd start talking again but avoided all mention of the word that had shaken him. The new conversation was always cheery, as though he hoped she wouldn't notice his slip.  
  
Jacqueline was distressed to see someone she loved hurting but she wasn't sure if or how she should ask Marc about his silences. She now knew three names and one place that always upset him. She hunted through Marc's letters for the names. From the letters and a few comments Marc had made, she knew that the three people had all died in or after battle from their wounds. She could understand why that would upset him but he often mentioned other people who had died without the strange silences. As to the town, he had mentioned it twice and both times he had horrible nightmares the same night. She'd asked him about the nightmares but he'd simply ignored her question and changed the subject or muttered something about too much rich food.  
  
Aside Marc's occasional silences and a nightmare or two, the couple's life was idyllic. They had time to themselves and yet could be with the family whenever they wanted. They were looking forward to spending the rest of their wedding trip in the same way when two events occurred that changed their lives forever.  
  
  
Chapter Thirty-One  
  
"Mama, look what I found in the barn." Cedric held up his treasure for his mother's inspection.  
  
"Ugh! Cedric, take it away." Marie-Sylvie pointed towards the other side of the stable-yard. "Show it to your father."  
  
Jacqueline looked away from the mud-smeared rat's skull in Cedric's hand and took a deep breath.  
  
"Yes, Mama," Cedric sighed very dramatically then scampered off to show his prized possession to his Papa.  
  
Marie-Sylvie watched Julien speak to Cedric before the pair of them walked towards one of the barns. "I do wish the boys would not do things like that," Marie-Sylvie said calmly. "It is most annoying."  
  
"Do...?" Jacqueline took another deep breath. "Do both Matthew and Cedric pick up horrible things like that?"  
  
"No, usually the things they find are alive."  
  
"Oh!" Jacqueline said faintly as she imagined rats and frogs and any number of crawly things being shown to her. "Excuse me. I have to change my clothes and meet Grandmamma in the main hall."  
  
"Please tell Grandmamma Comtess that I shall see her at luncheon." Marie-Sylvie called after her.  
  
~~~~  
  
Jacqueline lifted the hem of her riding habit and hurried along the long corridor.  
  
"Where have you been?" Domenic stepped out of a doorway and stood commandingly in her path.  
  
"Marie-Sylvie and I went for a ride around the village, Papa. You know she has been teaching me and..." Jacqueline stopped talking when Domenic stepped forcefully towards her.  
  
"My study, now!" He bellowed.  
  
Jacqueline blinked in surprise then turned and did as he asked.  
  
Domenic opened the door to the study and directed Jacqueline inside. He pointed at the stone chair.  
  
"Sit!"  
  
"But Papa...?"  
  
"Now!"  
  
Jacqueline stumbled over her skirt in her hurry and almost fell over the chair. She sat in the chair and stared at her hands. 'I knew this was all to good to be true,' she thought. 'I just knew it.'  
  
Muttering, Domenic paced around the dim room that the weak February sunlight and the embers in the fireplace could not brighten. He shot a glare at his daughter-in-law and, noticing that she was shivering and wringing her fingers as if they were cold, he stomped over to the grate and built up the fire.  
  
Jacqueline still had no idea of what was happening when Marc knocked on the door and entered the room. He took one look at his quaking wife and quickly went to her side.  
  
"How could you allow this?" Domenic roared at his son.  
  
"What in the world are you talking about? You upset her!" Marc snapped back. He turned to Jacqueline, "Are you all right?"  
  
Jacqueline nodded nervously.  
  
"No thanks to you!" Domenic prowled up to his son. "Answer me? How could you allow your wife to endanger her health and that of my grandchild in this way?"  
  
"What?" Marc looked at his father in surprise, "but she's not expecting a child."  
  
"Yes, she is." Domenic growled. He began detailing a list of Jacqueline's symptoms including information that could only have come from Elaine or one of the chambermaids. By the time Domenic was finished his long and detailed list (which included every item she hadn't eaten at breakfast over the last week), Jacqueline was crying with shocked embarrassment and hiding her face in her hands.  
  
"Father, how could you?" Marc was horrified at his father's behaviour. He squatted down beside the chair and tried to peer through his wife's fingers. "Jacqui?"  
  
"I wasn't sure," Jacqueline sobbed. "I didn't want to say anything yet."  
  
"Oh sweeting," Marc hugged her.  
  
"Well, everyone else is sure!" Domenic growled. "The blacksmith's even running a book for the date and if it'll be a boy or a girl. According to him, the favourite's a boy in the last week of September." Domenic bellowed, "And what do you do? You go riding! How stupid!"  
  
That was the last straw.  
  
"No one speaks to my wife like that!" The Captain barked in his parade ground voice. He grabbed his father by the shoulder and wrenched the door open. "Out!" Marc shoved his father out of the room, slammed the door and bolted it.  
  
Marc took a deep breath and turned back to his wife. "Jacqueline," he said, gently.  
  
Domenic pounded on the door with his fist.  
  
"Go away!" The Captain commanded. "If I open that door now you shall regret it, Father. I swear it!"  
  
Marc gently encouraged Jacqueline to stand up but no amount of coaxing would make her move her hands from her face. Finally Marc sat in the chair and pulled his wife down to sit on his lap. Jacqueline lowered her hands but instantly hid her face against Marc's shoulder.  
  
"Papa's too used to having his own way." Marc said quietly. "Sometimes he gets so caught up that he doesn't think about how he's hurting people."  
  
They sat silently clinging to each other for some time before Marc said, "Jacqueline, are you happy about the child?"  
  
"Yes." Jacqueline whispered tearfully into his collar. "Are you?"  
  
"Yes." Marc heard Jacqueline sigh and felt her relax against him. He pondered the thought that he would be a father and found he liked the idea, a lot.  
  
A few minutes later Jacqueline said, "Marc, you know that I love your family as my own and this Chateau is very special to me..."  
  
"But?" Marc fought the urge to smile.  
  
"But now I understand why you stayed away for fifteen years."  
  
Domenic stomped back to his study determined to get his sanctuary back. The Comtess's opinion of his behaviour was still ringing in his ears. It wasn't his fault if his shy daughter-in-law didn't like his way of dealing with the situation. She'd come round soon enough. And there was no need for Marc to yell at him like that.  
  
He wasn't expecting to be greeted by the sound of laughter.  
  
"That darned Court's driven them mad," he muttered. Domenic stomped back to the Main Hall and another bout of nagging from the Comtess.  
  
~~~~  
  
Later that day, Domenic Laurent endured a long lecture from his third son. It took all of Julien's peace-making skills to stop Marc packing up and taking Jacqueline home to Hautefort. Eventually, Marc agreed to stay when Domenic promised that he would never bully Jacqueline again and that he'd stop the Blacksmith's betting ring.  
  
The next morning, Domenic sent a note to Jacqueline asking her to forgive his rudeness. Jacqueline accepted his apology but, on the Comtess' advice, stayed away from the rest of the family until the following day.  
  
~~~~  
  
With Domenic's behaviour under control, life at the Chateau quickly became peaceful again.  
  
Although Jacqueline regretted losing the riding lessons she'd barely begun, she enjoyed the little extra attentions she received from everyone. Marie-Sylvie was surprisingly kind to her and over the next two weeks the women often sat and chatted about the realities of motherhood and the silliness of their menfolk at such a time.  
  
Jacqueline wasn't surprised to discover that Marie-Sylvie was nicer than she'd first thought. Though she was surprised that Julien's wife had become a friend and, even though she was a little silly and proud sometimes, Jacqueline liked her.  
  
It seemed that nothing was going to mar the rest of Marc and Jacqueline's visit. The seasons changed and Spring made an appearance. The fields were readied for the new season and the apple orchards were coming back to life.  
  
The people of the Chateau and the village were happy. The weather was fine and the sunlight was becoming a little brighter each day. It appeared that March would be a happy month.  
  
Appearances can often be deceiving.  
  
To be continued 


	17. Chapters 32 and 33

Disclaimer - see chapter one

Chapter Thirty-Two

One Sunday in early March the household woke to the silence of irreversible change. Sometimes life ends suddenly and violently, other times slowly and painfully. For the Comtess, life ended with peaceful dignify and a minimum of fuss and bother, just as she would have wished it. But the nature of her death made it no less sorrowful and painful for her family.

Just after dawn, Marie-Sylvie came to Marc and Jacqueline's room and told them the sad news. Sometime during the night the Comtess had passed away in her sleep.

Marie-Sylvie had expected Jacqueline to dissolve into tears and Marc to show the same quiet acceptance that Julien had shown a few minutes earlier. Instead Jacqueline quietly nodded her understanding and Marc broke down. Marie-Sylvie hurriedly excused herself and left the room before she witnessed any more of her brother-in-law's unseemly emotion.

Jacqueline waited until Marie-Sylvie had left the room before she allowed herself to cry for the brave little lady. Winter had not been kind to the Comtess and Jacqueline had noticed how frail she had become. So frail that she had rarely left her room outside meal times. Jacqueline had discussed it with Marie-Sylvie and, after talking with the Comtess, Jacqueline had quietly assumed the Comtess' few household duties.

The day Domenic had bailed up Jacqueline had been one of the few days the Comtess had ventured downstairs. Jacqueline suspected it was because the Comtess knew what would happen. That afternoon she had gone to the Comtess' room and thanked Monique for making the effort. The old lady was propped up with pillows on her bed and was writing a letter.

"You're welcome, dear," Monique had smiled and accepted the thanks. "Do you think I could use that vegetable soup now?" Jacqueline had swallowed back her tears at the reference to the joke she'd played on the Comtess and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Stop that. No tears. Everything will be all right," Monique had said gruffly while she patted Jacqueline's hand.

"Yes, Grandmamma," Jacqueline had replied. She had sat on the bed and watched the old lady slowly write her letter. "Can I help you with that?"

"No, dear." The Comtess had smiled. "This is mine to do and I still have quite a few to go." She chuckled, "This lot will keep me busy to June."

Jacqueline was jolted out of her memories when Marc grabbed her in a tight hug. She held him tightly and tried to comfort him. If only he had listened to her, if only he hadn't refused to acknowledge that his Grandmamma was not as strong as she had been.

Marc clung to his wife and tried to think calmly. He couldn't, all he could do was feel the overpowering helplessness of grief. This wasn't supposed to happen. His Grandmamma was supposed to be safe, here and alive. Forever!

"I'm so sorry, Marc," Jacqueline kissed his forehead.

"It's all my fault." Marc whispered.

"No, Marc. No."

Marc tried to listen but all he could think was the Comtess' death was his fault. He had spent his life surrounded by death in battle but had been far from Suzanne, Michel and Monique when they died. In a moment of weakness, after he had been wounded, he had prayed that he would be with his family when someone next died. He had expected it would be himself. Instead his prayers had been answered and he had killed his grandmother.

Breakfast was late. No one was in the mood to eat but they did anyway. The routine of the meal was something normal and reassuring in a world that wasn't normal and reassuring any more.

Domenic was unusually quiet. Every so often his gaze would stray to the door or the empty chair before he returned to the poorly cooked meal. Julien was calm and composed, though his tear reddened eyed betrayed his grief. Jacqueline sat silently sipping her tea and fighting a combination of grief and morning sickness. Marc looked a mess, his clothes mismatched and his hair uncombed.

Marie-Sylvie broke the silence. "Papa Laurent, shall we have the prayers here or in the chapel?" Domenic looked blankly at her. Marie-Sylvie asked her question again.

Domenic shrugged, "The Chapel, I suppose. Does it matter?"

"Yes, Papa Laurent, it does." Marie-Sylvie began planning what needed to be done. She looked to Jacqueline. "Would you like to help dress Grandmamma?"

"Yes, but..." Jacqueline paled then took a deep breath, speaking had been a mistake. "Excuse me." She put her hand over her mouth and trotted from the room.

"Hmmm, best not," Marie-Sylvie said quietly. "Julien, can you speak to the priest. We will need the Chapel to be ready by midday."

"Why? It doesn't matter," growled Marc.

Marie-Sylvie turned on him, "Why? Because all we can do for Grandmamma Comtess now is to do as she wished and give her a proper and correct farewell. Because we respected her and loved her." Marie-Sylvie wiped a tear off her cheek, "Now look what you made me do."

Julien gave Marc a foul look and followed his wife out the door.

Domenic and Marc sat in silence while the servants cleared the table.

It was late afternoon when the family returned to the Main Hall.

They had spent many hours in the Chapel, praying by the Comtess' open coffin. Jacqueline hadn't been the least bit surprised to discover that the old lady had organised everything. Years ago, she had given Julien and Marie-Sylvie a list of instructions of exactly how everything was to be done. Her coffin had been made years ago to match that of her husband's and was kept in the family crypt, ready for when it was needed. At first Jacqueline had thought that to have planned everything was strange but after a while she realised it was just part of the Comtess' way of caring for her family.

There was a fire burning in the main fireplace and the family sat near it, as if the heat of the flames would warm their emotions. Matthew and Cedric sat silently with their parents.

Marie-Sylvie opened the sheet of paper she had been consulting through the day and said, "We have one thing left to do, today." At her signal, Clementine brought in a box. Jacqueline recognised it from the day she had visited the Comtess' room.

"Each year, Grandmamma Comtess readied the contents of this box," Marie-Sylvie said rather dramatically. She passed the box to Julien who opened it. Jacqueline watched as her brother-in-law took out a letter and handed it to Matthew.

"Take that to Grandpapa." The young boy slid off his father's lap and trotted over to Domenic. He solemnly handed the letter over. Julien handed a letter to Cedric who took it to Marc. Then another one to Matthew that he quietly delivered to Jacqueline. Jacqueline kissed her nephew's cheek before he went back to his parents, who had taken three more letters from the box.

Domenic and Marie-Sylvie opened their letters and began reading. Julien opened the letter that Monique had written to his children and began to quietly read it out to the boys. Marc looked at the letter in his hand as though it were a snake about to bite him.

Jacqueline sighed and opened her letter.

Dear Jacqueline,

It seems only yesterday that you walked into the Main Hall like you were walking into a lion's den. Like Domenic I had expected to meet a haughty court lady but Marc has better taste than that.

When I came to the Chateau I was a bride of seventeen married to a man who was only two years younger than my father. I was afraid that I would be a terrible failure but my mother-in-law, who was very old to me then but younger than I am now, let me in on a secret. It's not the end that matters but how you get there. You are much stronger than you think, Jacqueline, and yours is the best tapestry of any of my grand-daughters-in-law.

My dear I am sorry that I won't be here to see your little one. I am certain that you shall be a wonderful, if overindulgent, Mama. If your baby's a girl please don't name her Monique. My name seems to bode poorly for my grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

Look after my silly grandson. He's very like his grandfather and like Michel he believes that he should be able to stop all the bad in the world.

I love you and am very, very proud of you,

Grandmamma Monique 

Jacqueline felt the grief inside her melt and change. She still felt sad but there was an acceptance. She folded the letter and tucked it into the bodice of her dress, close to her heart.

Marc sat as long as he could before he could sense his family becoming restless. Reluctantly he opened his letter.

Dear Marc,

Stop it! I did not die from anything you did or did not do.

Marc sat back and gasped, he looked around as though he expected the Comtess' ghost to make a personal appearance and attack him. He swallowed and returned to reading the letter.

I died because I was very old and it was my time. It is not your fault. It was not your fault that your mother died or Suzanne or Michel or Monique. It is life, grandson, and you have to accept that you can not protect all of us just as you have to accept that you could not protect the Duc or your military friends. Stop fighting what you can't change and look at what you have!

I told you grandson, you are just like your grandfather and I understood him well. Nearly thirty years of marriage does that, you know.

Your grandfather would be so very proud of you Marc. I am proud of you too but not because of your military achievements. I am proud of you because you are a good man who holds to his word and loves his wife and his family.

So get on with your life and stop moping! That's an order!

I love you,

Grandmamma. 

Jacqueline wasn't sure if she should be concerned that Marc was crying and laughing at the same time.

Chapter Thirty-Three

King Francis had been avoiding this moment for days. Facing down enemy kings was easier than this. After taking one last pause, Francis opened the first of a large pile of letters that the Comte de Chantourelle had delivered to him.

Dear Louis-Francis,

This is my last letter to you, dear Majesty. It is my wish that this letter be delivered to you upon my death. Do not mourn for me, dear Majesty. I was luckier than almost everyone else of my era and survived to see my own great-grandchildren.

I have a gift for you and a request to make, if I may. The gift should be with this letter. It is every letter that Your Majesty and your dear parents ever wrote to Michel and I. You should have these. I am not sending them to Your Majesty because I fear my family may misuse them. I am sending them to you, Louis-Francis, because I believe they may be of use to you.

The request I ask of Your Majesty is simple. The Chateau D'Argent is the seat of the Comte D'Argent. With my death all traces of that title disappear. All I ask is if Your Majesty wishes to give the Chateau to another family please make your decision quickly and make any hurt to my family swift and bloodless.

Goodbye dear friend.

With love,

Monique, Comtess D'Argent.

P.S. I met your son recently. He looks like his mother but he acts just like you!

Francis sighed and sat back in his chair. "Goodbye," he whispered. The King sat wrapped in his memories for sometime.

Nearly two weeks had passed since the Comtess' death. Almost all of Domenic's surviving children had gathered to farewell their grandmother. Only Etienne and Raymonde were absent. Both had decent excuses; Etienne was in Rome and Raymonde was on a ship somewhere off the coast of Africa.

Claudette and Giles, their three children, and Adrienne and Robert had just arrived at the Chateau.

"You took your time." Domenic greeted them, outside the doors to the Chateau entryway. "Look how much you've grown," he smiled at his grandchildren and gave each of them a hug.

"Well, really, Papa. I..." Claudette fell silent, her thunder stolen by Adrienne who walked past her and leant down to kiss her father's cheek.

"It is good to see you too, Papa," Adrienne smiled sadly. "Although I wish Grandmamma was here too."

Domenic's reply to his tall, gentle daughter was lost in the noise when the rest of the Laurent family arrived to greet them. Soon the air was filled with the sounds of conversation and laughter tinged with sadness.

Jacqueline hesitated. She stood quietly in the entryway and watched Marc's family greeting each other. This was a special family moment. A moment for Marc and not for her. For some reason she felt like a trespasser. Jacqueline took a deep breath and waited for the greetings to end.

Marc looked around the forecourt. Where had Jacqueline gone? He couldn't see her anywhere in the Laurent Throng, as Dommie had just named the crowd. Finally he saw her hiding in the entryway. He waved to her.

"Jacqueline, over here," called Marc.

Jacqueline waved back, for some reason she still felt reluctant to go out but if she stayed where she was she would interrupt Marc. Jacqueline turned and walked further into the entryway, towards the tapestries that made her feel safe. She was stopped by a yell from Domenic.

"Jacqueline Laurent, stop sulking and get yourself out here with your family this minute!"

Astonished, Jacqueline turned to look at Domenic and found the entire family was watching her. Marc walked over to her and took her by the hand. Jacqueline's fears vanished as soon as he touched her hand.

"Come on, sweeting," whispered Marc. "Everyone's waiting for you."

"You can't escape us that easily, little sister," Julien called to her.

Jacqueline smiled and soon found herself surrounded by the love and affection of Marc's family, her family.

"I'm going to miss you, boy." Domenic hugged Marc while the coachmen made their final check of Adrienne and Robert's carriage and its horses. The two couples were to travel together as far as Hautefort rather than wait another week for a Royal Carriage to fetch Marc and Jacqueline.

"Maybe next time you can visit us," Marc smiled down at his father.

"Maybe I shall. And I won't wait fifteen years," Domenic chuckled. He looked around, "Where's Jacqueline?"

"She had one more goodbye to make."

"I have come to say farewell and thank you," Jacqueline looked up at the Comtess' tapestry and thought of the woman who had made it. She thought of how much Monique had changed her in the few short months they'd known each other.

"Thank you for letting me be a part of your family. Thank you for loving me. And thank you for teaching me so much." Jacqueline wiped a tear from her cheek and whispered, "I shall do my best to stitch a life and a family you would be proud of Grandmamma."

Jacqueline quietly walked out of the entryway and towards the drawbridge and the waiting coach. Behind her the tapestries hung on the wall, warming it and the Chateau with their presence.

Captain Laurent and his wife reached Hautefort on a Saturday afternoon. It was evening by the time they had farewelled Adrienne and Robert, organised the unpacking of the baggage wagon and supervised the moving of their baggage into their quarters.

"It seems so quiet without the family and all the Chateau work." Jacqueline yawned and climbed into bed, pulling the curtain shut.

"Hah!" Marc replied. "Just you wait until everyone knows we're back. You'll soon be wanting a minute's peace."

"Do not wager on it," murmured Jacqueline tiredly.

Leonardo waited patiently for the Royal Family to enter the Cathedral. The Courtiers were less patient but still polite. Leonardo soon tired of watching their antics and began examining the masonry on the opposite wall. He was so engrossed in the masonry that he didn't notice that he had company.

The stamp of the Royal Pike Guard's boots on the stone floor signalled the imminent arrival of the Royal Family. Leonardo leant forward and looked around Captain Laurent, who was in the way as usual, and towards the door. It took the artist a moment for the thought to register.

"When did you get back?" Leonardo grinned up at the Captain.

"Last night," said Jacqueline quietly. Leonardo turned and hugged her, completely ignoring Court and Church protocol.

"You've lost weight, my dear," Leonardo said with a wink before he released her from the hug. He gave the Captain an innocent-elderly-gentleman smile.

"Not for long," Laurent grinned, refusing to take the bait.

Leonardo smiled, "When is...?"

He fell silent as the Royal Family entered the Church and walked regally up the aisle. Two minutes later King Francis turned in his seat and glared at the Prince and Princess - waving at one's friends in church was Just Not Done.

Princess Danielle looked at her stern father-in-law. She tried not to giggle as she imagined him tying a hat onto a donkey or looking at milkmaids' ankles or...

She failed.

One year later.

"No, that is impossible," King Francis said very concisely. "My grandson is the best child in the world. Not your goddaughter, Signore."

"I beg to differ, Your Majesty." Leonardo replied sleepily. "Your grandson in the best boy in the world. My goddaughter is the best girl."

Domenic bit back a laugh and poured another cup of apple cider for all three of them. "No child is perfect. If they were they'd be darn boring."

Captain Laurent peeked into the main room of his small quarters. The three older men were still drinking and discussing something or other. He quietly closed the door and went back to bed.

"Have they gone yet?" whispered Jacqueline.

"No. Papa's still feeding them cider and tall stories." Marc shrugged. "Maybe the novelty will wear off soon, when Papa's been here for a while."

Domenic had only been visiting a week so far, since Julien had come to court to be invested as Comte D'Argent. Unfortunately, Marc and Jacqueline's four room quarters were just too small to share with someone as overpowering as Domenic.

"If they wake up Leonie I shall give them all a piece of my mind. King or no King," whispered Jacqueline angrily. It had been a very long day and she was too tired to be polite.

"Jacqui, you can't say things like that," Marc sighed. "It is probably best if we just go to sleep and leave them to it. The guards outside will make sure His Majesty doesn't come to harm."

Marc was almost asleep when Jacqueline said quietly, "Marc, dearest, you know I love your family but sometimes..."

"I know, Sweeting," sighed the Captain, "I know."

THE END

Author's note: Thank you to everyone who has read this story for sparing the time to do so. And to everyone who has commented on it - thank you for your honesty and encouragement. I appreciate it.

This story is dedicated to the unsung heroes and heroines of life, history and fiction - those people in the background who build the world simply by living life honourably, honestly and with love. 


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